


Camp, Please!

by unchartedsea



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Summer Camp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 11:17:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4346546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unchartedsea/pseuds/unchartedsea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Camp Samwell is open for the summer! Two of the counselors, Dex and Nursey, have been paired up but can't stand each other. Still, who knows what can happen in three months?</p><p>On hiatus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Camp Samwell Promotional Video

Welcome to Camp Samwell! We’re sure you’ve already heard about our _excellent_ , highly-ranked summer camp programs, but here’s an inside look into what your child’s month here will be like.

Camp Samwell is a program for elementary and middle school students located on beautiful Lake Samwell, Massachusetts. Students live out of four-person cabins, each with bunkbeds and a bathroom. Meals are provided in the mess hall, commonly referred to as the Haus, and linens are also provided.

Your child will spend every day on a wide range of activities, organized into three categories. During studies, students analyze their natural environment and learn practical skills for wilderness survival. This involves nature walks, laboratory experiments, and other forms of hands-on learning. During art, students will work with a variety of crafts and projects designed to give them a creative outlet and encourage teamwork. And during recreation, students can enjoy a variety of sports and activities designed to keep their bodies as active as their minds.

From athletes to scholars, our counselors are some of the brightest college students in the country. They have unique talents and personalities, but are all committed to ensuring the best possible stay for your child.

Once again, we hope to welcome your child to Camp Samwell this summer! Please review our frequently asked questions below, and find us through our Contact page if you have any more questions or concerns.

 

* * *

 

“Oh my goodness. Lardo, this is horrible.”

“Bits, don’t even get me started. Like how they didn’t mention any of our special needs accommodations? It’s ableist bullshit, but it’s what the higher-ups gave us. I send emails for the man and the man pays me for art school.”

“But it’s like they _tried_ to make the most boring possible video.”

“You know what? I’d love to write a paper on that, brah. You know, the reinforcement of fucking poor-quality advertising to fit societal norms, or the way crap media persists due to warped perceptions of consumer demand.”

“I don’t know, it didn’t seem so bad to me.”

“Jack Zimmermann, you beautiful mindless consumer, you and I need to have a serious discussion on holding media to a higher standard of quality.”

“...No, thanks?”

“It wasn’t a question. In fact, rule 157 of best friendship mandates that you must always say yes to letting your friends educate you on the evils of unquestioningly accepting capitalism and all related subjects.”

"I don't remember signing that."

"As a future lawyer, I think I'm the expert here."

“Ahem. Back to the subject, do y’all think that anyone has ever payed attention to the whole thing? Like, from start to finish?”

“I don’t know, Bits. Do you believe in miracles?”

“Not really? I believe in Beyonce. And the power of my three-time county-winning apple cinnamon pie.”

“Close enough, brah. Speaking of pie...”

 "Yes, in the kitchen. Follow me."

"Bless your outsized Georgian heart, Bitty boy. Bless it one thousand times to the moon and back."

"Somebody shove pie into his mouth so he shuts up."

"On it!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a pretty silly beginning, mostly so I can avoid doing lots of explanation during the actual fic itself. But I hope you enjoyed it anyway.


	2. Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day of camp begins.

Derek shields his eyes to make out the stunning vista before him. The lake is enormous, glittering spots of sunlight shifting with the waves on its dark blue surface. The verdant shores slope upwards, grass trembling in the breeze. Perched on the wooden cabins are colorful flags adorned with Camp Samwell’s white logo; they whip back and forth gleefully.

Small children kiss worried parents goodbye and comically attempt to drag their own luggage to their cabins. A little girl in a yellow tiara shows off a birthday balloon larger than she is, and a pack of delighted kids surrounds a very nervous corgi on all sides. The air is full of excited shrieking and chatter, punctuated by the occasional sobs of a frightened kindergartener. Flitting around through the chaos are purple-shirted counselors, reassuring parents and soothing the criers.

“Hey, Nursey. Is there a reason you’re not helping?” Dex hoists another large cardboard box out of the back of his truck. He’s sweaty, redder than his own hair, and as always, irritated.

“Chill, man. Ever heard of enjoying the view?”

“Ever heard of doing your job?” Dex dumps his box into Derek’s arms before grabbing another.

“I have been, so take it easy, bro. Why don't you stop to appreciate nature?”

Dex pauses to gaze at the scenery in as well. “...I’m here to get paid.”

“Jeez, alright, Captain Killjoy. Let’s go.” They start off again towards the Haus, where the boxes are being piled in the storage rooms.

Bitty, the hospitality coordinator (“food, linens, weird bugs in your shower, you name it”), is directing traffic in storage. The diminutive Georgian knows how to make his oh-so-Southern voice fill a room. “No, Chowder, other shelf. To your left. Farmer, please help him. Oh, Dex-and-Nursey, you’re back! Okay, third aisle, fourth shelf. Are these the last two?”

Dex shakes his head. “Three more.”

“Oh my goodness gracious, I am going to need to do some serious storage Tetris. Come on, Farmer, let’s start moving these around.”

Somebody pokes their head in. It’s Jack, head sports counselor and therefore in charge of both Dex and Derek starting tomorrow. “Bitty, your pie alarm.”

“My blueberry-lemon tarts! Mercy!” The tiny blonde makes a mad dash out the door for the kitchen. Jack awkwardly stares at all four frogs, nods once, and leaves. Derek isn’t a hockey guy, but Shitty told him something about Jack being famous in the hockey world. So far the well-chiseled Canadian’s demeanor seems as far from a celebrity’s as humanly possible. After he leaves, Chowder makes a high-pitched squealing noise that is probably fanboying; clearly the week of training hasn’t adjusted him to _the_ Jack Zimmermann’s presence. Farmer giggles.

They head back to the truck. Derek muses, “Is Jack really such a big deal?”

Dex sighs audibly. “I’m not explaining the Zimmermann legacy to you. Google it.”

“Bro, are you combative about everything?” Peeved and distracted, Derek nearly trips over someone, already exhibiting his trademark klutziness. “So sorry, kid—” He stops short when he realizes that it’s not a camper but the head art counselor glowering up at him. “Sorry! Sorry Lardo.”

Dex snickers, and Lardo scrunches her nose in annoyance. “Seven people have mistaken me for a camper today. Dude, I’m wearing the purple shirt and holding a clipboard! Finished with the boxes yet?”

“Three more.”

“Hm. I’ll send Shitty over, make it one trip. Keep up the good work, boys.”

“We will,” replies Dex, sending a pointed look Derek’s way. Refusing to engage again, Derek continues on in stubborn silence.

Sure enough, on their way back to storage, there are loud footsteps behind them. “Yo! Wait up you little...uh, frogs!” A familiar luxurious mustache bobs up and down behind them as the head studies counselor jogs to catch up.

“Shitty! Shouldn’t you be talking to parents?”

“I believe in being aware of your own limits, and if I hear another parent complain about the no phones for campers rule, I am going to…” He glances around before conspiratorially lowering his voice. “... _lose my shit_.”

“Valid. How’s the not-swearing going?”

“Not stellar, brah. Just gotta get into my counselor zone, you know? Project the right persona: a firm, gentle disciplinarian with unwavering self-assurance and a ‘stache crafted by the gods." They meet his obviously rehearsed line with blank stares. "Never mind. How’s the first week going, newbies?”

Dex has looked uncomfortable around Shitty since he first heard his name. He mutters, “Fine," and hands out the last three boxes.

Derek grins. Shitty went to his high school, and hadn’t just convinced Derek to join Camp Samwell despite his parents' disapproval; he’d practically filled out half the application himself. “This place is sick, dude. I mean, look at that view.”

“Haha, never gets old! Inspiring some patented Nursey poetry, no doubt.”

Derek gives Dex a wary look; he’s caught his skeptical looks at the mention of a poetry major. But the ginger forges on to the Haus entrance without a side-eye in sight. “Maybe.”

The storage room is now crowded with two more counselors, both tall and rather frat bro-esque. They are an astonishing pair, handing off containers to each other with such natural ease that they might as well be sharing the same body. Ransom slats the last one into place. “Broooooo! Record time!”

Holster begins to warble in earnest, _“Weeee are the chaaaampionssss…”_

Shitty shakes his head. “Adam Birkholtz. The storage room is a haven for the weary, a resting place for the wayward traveler, a shelter from the brutal storms of life. Don’t poison the aura with your poor renditions of Queen.”

Holster gasps in mock-offense. “Bro, I was invoking the soul of Freddie Mercury, the one true god.”

Bitty rolls his eyes. “Shitty, just because you can smoke joints here before bed without getting caught doesn’t mean it’s sacred." He ignores Shitty's gasp of mock outrage. "Anyone without business in here, out please!”

The dynamic duo shuffle out dutifully as Derek places his final box on its shelf. Finished. He lifts the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow, and when he glances up, Dex is staring at him with an unreadable expression, his face still flushed from the exertion. Or perhaps from something else. Was that…? But then Dex turns to Bitty. “Anything else?”

“No, y’all are free to go. Make sure to pick up a tart in the kitchen as a reward! One each, mind you.”

Dex starts off for the kitchen right away, and Derek and Shitty have to jog after him. Derek’s curiosity has been piqued. “Wait up, roomie!”

Dex stops, giving him his usual judgmental stare. “Did you just call me _roomie_?”

“Problem, roomie?”

Dex rolls his eyes. “You sound like a girl.”

Shitty’s sigh is deeper than Samwell Lake. “My ignorant, binary-enforcing friend, you and I need to have a talk about the destructive effects of gender roles and the patriarchy and the fragility of the masculine ego.”

Dex stares at him as if he just spoke Turkish and juggled the tarts with his big toe. “Right.”

Shitty claps him on the back. “I’ll find you later.” He shoves a whole tart into his mouth in an impressive and slightly disgusting feat of contortion.

Derek attempts to be casual. "None of my exes liked sweets. My ex-girlfriend only liked coffee-flavored things, and my last boyfriend told me I was trying to give him diabetes."

Dex peers at the tarts carefully, as if they all weren’t the same perfect shape. “So?”

"I don't know. Just making conversation."

Dex, however, just shrugs stoically. “Okay? Can I eat my tart now?”

“...Yeah.” Derek watches his theory flutter out the window with slight disappointment. He and Dex haven’t exactly been clicking, so he wasn't really hoping for anything, but it would be nice if the whole at-each-other's-throats dynamic was a cover for Dex's romantic feelings. Or. Something. His imagination might just be a little too wild. He stuffs his mouth with tart forlornly before melting inside. Mmmmm. Shitty’s mustache trimmer, this tart is divine.

“So what’s next on your schedule?”

Derek is startled that Dex actually volunteered a question. “Uhhh, I’m helping Jack set up the music for the barbecue. You?”

Shitty’s interrupting belch is inhumanly loud. “Dex and I are prepping tonight’s bonfire.”

“Cool, you know how to do that?”

Dex arches an eyebrow. “You don’t?”

“Hey, city kid, born and raised. Can’t go around lighting fires in Manhattan.”

“...Sure.” Dex wipes the crumbs off his mouth with a napkin. “You should get going so you’ll make it on time.”

Derek can’t tell if that was a jab at him or a helpful comment. Whatever, then. “Later.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and exits the kitchen.

* * *

For the rest of the day, he’s so busy that he hardly speaks to the other counselors: answering questions from a herd of children at the barbecue, shepherding them to the bonfire, roasting marshmallows for them six at a time. Farmer strums a guitar as Shitty leads the off-key chorus of a hundred campers.

It’s only after all the kids are safely tucked in bed and the counselors on night patrol start rounds that he sees Dex heading back to #14. They fall into step. “Jeez, I’m so beat.”

“I started thinking about my bed two songs in.”

Derek snorts. “Right? Children are literally small Dementors.”

“...That’s from Harry Potter, right?”

“Oh no. This is a new low, even for you.”

“Please tell me you’re not gonna give me crap about this, too. They’re kid’s books.”

“They’re not...fine, I’ll drop it. Well, okay, the campers aren’t Dementors because Dementors feed off happiness. But they do steal your energy. So. What do you read?”

“Um, I’m not much of a reader. Didn’t have a lot of free time in high school.”

“Too busy with your computer science?”

“Too busy working.” Dex jiggles the door open with his key, and they both step inside.

“Right, on a lobster boat! That’s exciting.” Derek rifles through his desk and pulls out some Polaroids of him with friends. So he's procrastinated somewhat in room-decorating, but hey, he's a busy guy. He starts taping them to the wall in between his myriad concert posters. Most of them are rather hazy party scenes, and he looks pretty schwasted in a couple, but they bring back fond memories.

Dex buries his head in his closet, searching for something. His side of the room is meticulously clean and almost bare after the week here, just a desk lamp and playing cards and a couple coding manuals. It’s sterile enough to be a hotel advertisement or a showcase room. Then again, Derek’s half looks like it was hit by a baby cyclone. “I mean, it’s not really exciting when you’re doing it.”

“Chyeah, but how many people can say they’ve worked on a lobster boat? With lobster pots? See, I Googled that.”

He realizes when Dex turns around that his roommate seems vaguely annoyed. “It’s not exactly a story to tell at parties.”

“Why not?”

"It's not a cool thing."

"Hey, it's nothing to be ashamed of, bro."

Dex drops his pajamas on the bed and replies bitingly, “Well a rich boy who went to fancy private school and lives in New York City might not understand this, but some of us have to do manual labor to pay for tuition.”

Derek frowns. He's still getting used to their banter, but this is uglier. “Yo, what’s your problem, man? I’m not saying it wasn’t hard work.”

“Well you can stop treating my life like it’s an adventure or something, okay? I can’t afford to waste my money on a poetry major or whatever because I _work_ for what I have.” Dex’s face grows more crimson as he spits out the words.

Derek is stung. Sure, he’s rich, but assuming that makes his life smooth sailing? Does Dex know anything about being black in this country? And what does he know about Derek's family, or Derek's school life, or really anything about him? Still, he knows how these conversations escalate. He shoots Dex a warning look and growls, “Whatever this is, don’t take it out on me. You don’t know anything about me or my life, so chill.”

Dex is so tightly wound that Derek can almost see him snap, his golden eyes narrowing and his face going scarlet. In the span of a moment he’s flown across the room; he grabs the collar of Derek’s shirt and snarls, “I’m not going to _chill_ , so stop treating me like I’m an idiot. Just leave me the fuck alone.”

Derek yanks his collar out of Dex’s grip. “What the hell’s your problem, man? Fine by me. I didn’t sign up for this shit anyway.”

“Yeah, well, that makes two of us.” Dex stalks to the door and slams it behind him, and the narrow cabin walls rattle. The little bulb flickers as it shakes, as if panicking.

Derek sinks onto his bed and breathes slowly into his hands. What just happened? Why does Dex hate him so much?

And most importantly, how are they going to make it through a whole summer?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Thoughts on the first real chapter? I've never written a multi-chapter fic so I hope the slow build isn't too slow, but I'm hoping the small moments create a smooth introduction to the world.
> 
> This story is very unplanned and I'm taking it a chapter at a time, so I'd love to hear your headcanons, requests, and suggestions. And of course, constructive criticism is always welcome!


	3. No Chill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fight continues, and Will is stressed.

The door slams with a clatter behind him, and Will storms out with his heart rattling around his chest. Furious tears prick at his eyes. God, he’s so _angry_. A queasy mixture of fury and shame roils in his stomach.

Up float the memories of Nursey, with his trademark lazy arrogance, saying, “Chill, bro.” The offhand mentions of boarding school, vacations around the world, a brownstone in New York City. The self-satisfied grin as he talked about looking up lobster pots, as if he understands how many jobs Will has worked, as if he knows anything about skipping meals to pay for textbooks or sleeping through class after the graveyard shift.

Smirking with his shift half-lifted as he saw Will’s blush.

He wants to dump Nursey into Lake Samwell and never think about that entitled douchebag again. But this fight already risks a job that he desperately needs to pay for university in the fall. What if Nursey reports him? What if he gets fired?

Realizing that he’s just stalking around camp, directionless, he stuffs his hands into his pockets and makes his way to the dock. The walk is somewhat calming. The crickets creak a slow chorus. Fireflies wink in and out of sight in the tall grass. A slow wind ruffles the surface of the lake, dark waves churning. Above him a half-moon hangs tilted in the sky.

When he approaches the dock, he doesn’t even notice the shadow sitting at the edge until it turns and speaks to him. “Who’s there?”

“Will. Uh, Dex. Is that Chowder?”

“Dex! Yeah, it is! You should get your feet in because it feels reeeeally good. Why are you still up? Actually I was so excited I couldn’t sleep. Isn’t this place ‘swawesome? That’s what I heard Ransom and Holster saying. I like it. ‘Swawesome!”

Will obliges Chowder by stripping off his shoes and trailing his toes in the cool water. His stomach still feels constricted, but he lets his shoulders relax. “I don’t get this place at all. That’s not even a word.”

“It’s counselor slang! It makes you feel like you’re really part of the group, right? All the kids behaved well and they’re really funny, plus I got to eat six s’mores at the bonfire. Life is so good!”

Will can’t help but smile. He’s never met someone whose enthusiasm for everything feels this genuine. “Yeah. You’re perfect for this job, man.”

“Really, you think so? Thanks, Dex! I think you’re perfect at your job, too. You know, Bitty even said the other day that you and Nursey get so much done around here.”

Will replies grimly, “Let’s not talk about Nursey.”

“Oh no, why? What happened?”

“I know you like him, but I hate it. I’m his roommate, I work with him all day, I can’t go a single fucking minute without looking at his face. I don’t want that smug bastard looking down on me all summer. Plus he keeps telling me to chill, but it’s his fault because he keeps pissing me off.”

Chowder sounds a bit like a kicked puppy. “You really think he looks down on you? I - I think Nursey’s really nice.”

Shit. He shouldn’t have dumped this on Chowder. “...I know you do, man. Sorry. Let’s talk about something else. How’s your week going?”

“You sure? Okay. Well, um, I think Caitlin asked me out.” Will can practically hear Chowder’s blush.

“Who’s Caitlin?”

“Farmer.”

“Oh. Cool. Did you say yes?” He can’t picture Chowder on a real date at all. He’s so...well, he’s never met anyone like Chowder over the age of ten. But objectively, Chowder’s not a bad-looking guy, and of course his positivity is his charm. Will can understand the appeal.

“Yeah. Um, I think she’s really fun. And pretty. Plus she’s super smart. But there’s no rule against dating co-workers or something, right? I was gonna ask Bitty but then I thought that maybe if I asked him, I could get Farmer in trouble.”

“I don’t think there’s a rule about dating. You can ask Bitty and say it’s hypothetical. Anyway, Bitty wouldn’t get you in trouble. Just be careful, you know? If things don’t work out, you still have to work together all summer.”

Chowder exclaims, “Gosh, you’re right!” He frowns. “Oh no. I didn’t even think about that. Do you think maybe I should say no?”

He feels a bit bad now, having put a damper on Chowder’s good fortune. Trust Will to bring the raincloud. “No, go on the date. It’ll be fine.”

Chowder beams. “Phew. Thanks, Dex. You give really good advice, you know that?”

“No problem. I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks. Gosh, what time is it?” Chowder pulls out his phone from his pocket. The screen flashes 1:18 AM. “Oh no! I’m gonna go to bed because I have to get up at sunrise and help Lardo. But can I come to you for advice? Later? Please?”

Him? What does Will know about romance or relationships? He thinks back to the half-hearted kisses with girls he hardly knew at parties, tasting like cheap beer. Or the disastrous date with Suzie, watching her twiddle her pasta with her fork, looking increasingly bored and antsy. Not exactly a stellar track record. Plus, he's recently realized why things weren’t working out with chicks.

Still, he nods. “Sure.”

Chowder tugs on his socks and shoes. “Great! ‘Swawesome! I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“See ya.”

Will lingers on the dock, soothed by the atmosphere. He can’t apologize to Nursey. But he should be able to hold his tongue and hope that Nursey has the decency to not get him thrown out. Still, the worry gnaws at his stomach.

It’s another hour before he makes his way back to #14. The light is out, and the dark figure in the opposite bed breathes softly, lightly snoring. Will climbs under the sheets and shuts his eyes, hoping that sleep will arrive soon for him as well.

  

* * *

 

The next morning, the elephant has taken up most of the space in the room. Will and Nursey are circling each other, slipping on their purple counselor shirts and brushing their teeth in stony silence. At one point they bump into each other and Will stiffens; Nursey stares at him for a long second, but merely walks into the bathroom and closes the door with a bang.

It’s only a matter of time. From the very beginning, they’ve been on a collision course, and the crash is always coming.

They manage to avoid each other over breakfast, where Nursey takes his pancakes and sits with Holster and a gaggle of middle school boys. Will doesn’t want to disturb Chowder and Farmer, who are laughing together over something, and he’s not sure that he can handle Chowder’s doe-eyes when he realizes the fight is still happening. Instead, Will carries his plate out of the Haus and finds some kids are drawing with chalk on the blacktop under Lardo’s supervision. “Can I join?”

Lardo takes in his dark circles, but doesn't comment. “Sure thing. Kayla here is drawing a flower, Eun is writing her name, and Alan is...making a robot?”

Alan pouts. “An elephant!”

“An elephant, my bad. You wanna help?”

“Sure.” Will can’t help being quiet, and he doesn’t have the easy charm of many of the other counselors, but he’s realized that his best advantage is being a good listener. He asks Eun and Kayla and Alan about their favorite TV shows, and then enjoys their chatter about little ponies and the alphabet song while he finishes off his pancakes.

Then Lardo stands up. “Can you watch them while I grab something to eat? I’ll throw your plate out.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Well, it wasn’t a problem for all of five minutes, and then Nursey arrived. “Dex. The boys want to play basketball. Can you tell these kids to draw somewhere else?” Sure enough, a group of them are sitting on the grass on the other side of the blacktop, looking antsy.

Eun frowns. “No, I haven’t finished my name yet!” Only one of her bubble letters is filled in.

Will shrugs at Nursey. “They can play later.”

Nursey gestures around in irritation. “There’s a lot of other places for them to draw. But the hoop’s here.”

Will stands up and glares at him. “So? These kids haven’t finished drawing. Tell the boys to play something else.”

“Bro, can you be reasonable for like five seconds?”

“I’m not the one being unreasonable here, so back off.”

“No, I’m not backing off! Tell these kids to move!”

“They were here first, so stop ordering them around! You’re not entitled—”

“Are you serious? Stop projecting your own issues onto me—”

“Counselors!” Lardo’s sharp voice cuts through the fight, and Chowder and Farmer are behind her. Shit. He sees Chowder’s disappointed eyes already, and has to look away. “Do we have a problem?”

Nursey crosses his arms. “Yeah, the boys need the court.”

Will shoots him a look. “Well these kids are drawing, so-”

She’s maybe half their size, but Will doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything as menacing as a pissed-off Lardo. “Ten more minutes for the kids to draw, okay? Then you can start a game. Chowder, Farmer, can you handle this?” They nod. “Good. Nurse, Poindexter, follow me.”

Will glances at the kids, and all three of them looked wide-eyed and a little shaken. He was just trying to defend them. God, he’s such an idiot. Plus he’s probably about to be fired. His stomach drops as Lardo leads them back to the Haus and into her ‘office’, which basically consists of a table, a folding chair, some folders, and a lot of very strange art pieces coating the walls. He’s pretty sure one is shaped like a vagina, but he’s also studiously avoiding looking in that direction.

Nursey glances around. “Nice. This is sick, Lardo.”

She gives him a pointed look. “Thanks, but not the time. Can you explain to me what the hell just happened? Because I rely on you all to smooth over problems, not to make new ones because a couple of rocks-for-brains don’t know what compromise is.”

They both glance at each other with hostility, reluctant to speak. Nursey pipes up, “Dex has a problem with me.”

Really, the blame game? “My problem is that Nursey doesn’t know what it means to work hard.”

Before Nursey can speak, Lardo cuts him off. “Why?”

Will is taken aback by her question. She wants him to elaborate? “Uh, because… I mean, he’s always slacking off.”

Lardo arches an eyebrow. “I think that’s for me to decide, and I haven’t seen that.”

“He does! He doesn’t need to think about other people. He’s always talking about his rich boarding school life and his crazy parties and whatever, and he doesn’t even need this job for the money. But he thinks it’s okay to make fun of me because I’m poor, okay? I’m broke and I need this job to go to school. So I’m not going to _chill_ when I have way more to stress about than he ever will.”

“When did I ever make fun of you for being poor?” What stops Will from replying isn’t what Nursey says, but that he doesn’t sound angry. He sounds hurt. “All I wanted to do was be friends, bro. I said chill because you’re always exploding at me for the most trivial shit, but I was trying to help. And what do you actually know about my life being easy? What I’ve been telling you is this is not about me, because you don’t know me at all.”

 _All I wanted to do was be friends._ Will isn’t sure he believes this, but now under Lardo’s critical gaze, he’s starting to wonder if anything he said about Nursey was true.

Lardo says gently, “Dex, I feel you. I’m a scholarship kid too. It sucks. I didn’t get to go to a camp like this growing up, and I have to sell my art to pay for meals, and I work my ass off all the time. But I think Nursey’s right. This isn’t about him. Believe me, I get it. But isn’t this because you wish that you had it easier too?”

Will can’t let himself think about how exhausted he is, how his whole life seems to be wearing him thin. He grits his teeth. “He treated it like a joke.”

Nursey’s clearly softened, but Will thinks that his pity is probably worse than his smug grin. “I didn’t mean to, bro. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“You don’t have something to say to Nursey?”

He gives Lardo a pleading look, but she’s unrelenting, so he admits, “You’re right. I don’t actually know about your life. Sorry for freaking out.”

Lardo sighs in relief. “Look, I know you guys have differences. But I think you can make a great team when you’re not at each other’s throats. Promise me you won’t pull a stunt like that in front of the kids again.” They nod. “Okay. And one more thing. I want you to have a meal together soon, and I want both of you to talk about your lives. Whatever you feel comfortable sharing. But I’m gonna trust that you can respect each other and hear each other out. Got it?” They nod again, though Will is more reluctant this time. “Okay. Go do your jobs.”

They shuffle out after each other, and Will releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding. He’s not fired. He almost forgets that Nursey is there too, but before they’ve reached the end of the hallway, Nursey turns to him. “Dex. I meant it when I said I wanted to be friends.”

“Okay. I…” Well, he’s still confused and tired and he doesn’t know what he feels about Nursey now. “I’ll try?”

Nursey suddenly grins, chuckling, and rolls his eyes. “You just have to make this difficult, don’t you?”

Will feels more comfortable back in his trademark sarcasm. “I live to be a pain in the ass.”

“You’re talented at it. Congrats, bro.”

“Didn’t you want to be friends?”

“I don’t know, reconsidering. But if I take it back now, Lardo will kill me in my sleep.”

“True.”

“What do you think her weapon of choice would be? Like a sword or something?”

“I don’t know. You think about this stuff?”

“Of course I do! Maybe a scythe?”

“You know she’s not actually an assassin.”

“Twin blades? Ninja stars?”

“This is no longer a conversation. You’re just monologuing for nobody.” They step out of the Haus doors and back into the morning light.

“Can you see her with throwing knives? No. I got it! Poison darts! Right? I'm so right. Come on, man, I need some input here…” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally posted an update. Sorry, y'all; study abroad happened (or, rather, is still happening) and life got a little too hectic. I had some writer's block so I just made myself write this. Just kinda hoping this will come together as a cohesive story with a nice balance of angst and fluff and feelings and friendship. 
> 
> Thoughts on what you liked and what you didn't? Have I stayed true to the characters? Feedback and constructive criticism, as always, make me a happy writer!


	4. Semi-Functional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek isn't sure if he and Dex are friends, or can be.

“We’re like semi-functional, isn’t that enough?”

It’s almost midnight and Derek is sitting in Ransom and Holster’s room, drinking one of the Heinekens they sneaked in. (As Holster said, “If Shitty can smoke joints, they won’t toss our asses to the curb over a couple drinks.”) They’re all sprawled on the floor, ostensibly watching 30 Rock on a laptop, but after three episodes both Ransom and Derek have officially checked out. Even Holster is spending more time tuned in to the conversation.  
  
Ransom does a wise head-shake. “Bro, don’t give up after a couple weeks. Dex and you are like a team now. Roommates, sports counselors, there’s no escaping the dude. I’m just saying that you don’t have to bait him so much.”

Derek groans. “It’s not like I start shit on purpose, okay? I’m really trying here. Every conversation is a fucking minefield. I talk about marshmallows and we end up at each other’s throats.”

Holster nods. “It did get pretty…heated.” He winks at his own terrible joke.

Ransom sighs, stretches his arms back to reach the pillow on his bed, and whacks Holster in the face. Ignoring Holster’s wounded look, he turns back to Derek. “Things have been improving, though. We can all see it. He’s a closed-off dude, just give him space.”

Derek shakes his head. Leaving people alone is not his forte, especially not someone as frustrating as Dex. “I just…can’t. I feel like if I don’t push him, he won’t open up about anything. But I don’t even know if I want to be friends. He’s so…well, he might even be Republican, you know?”

Holster shrugs, which is remarkable considering his slouchy, spread-eagle position on the ground. “Look, no doubt that the dude can be ignorant, but there was a time when even I was a dick. Just be patient while he learns. No guarantees, but he could be a true bro at heart."

Derek takes a long sip to finish the last of his beer before replying hesitantly, “I guess.” These few days have been a bit of a rollercoaster of Dex-related feelings. He’s got a killer sense of dry humor. He’s reliable and a good listener. Yet Dex can be so infuriating and close-minded as well. Every time they reach a tentative balance, something minor pulls the rug out from under their feet.

Well, it’s not useful to lie on the floor, especially when Ransom’s smelly laundry is too close for comfort. Derek hauls himself up. “Thanks for the advice, but I should turn in.”

Holster salutes him. “Sweetest of dreams, bro.”

Ransom stares dead into Derek’s eyes. “I’m gonna flip your ass like a pancake if you don’t show up on time to serve. I’m not dealing with screaming kids at 8 AM by myself.”

“Dude, I'm not always late.”

He points threateningly at Derek’s chest. “Flip it. Like. A fucking pancake.”

“Okay, okay. That doesn't even make sense, man.” Derek shuts the door behind him with a soft rattle.

He loves the nights here, and he’s been messing with some imagery about the moon and a turtle egg, but it’s not really coming together as a cohesive poem. He really wants a folk tale element to it, but somehow it’s eluding him. He muses all the way up the steps of #14 and opens the door quietly, but there’s nobody there.

Huh. Where’s Dex gone? Turning back around, he makes his way up to the Haus, where light spills through a couple windows. He pushes open the door with a creak. The dark hallway with its faint clicking noises gives him goosebumps, and he hurries towards the light.

A chipper Southern drawl floats out of the kitchen. “…My stars, if Betsy failed me I wouldn’t know how to manage feeding all these tykes tomorrow. One time last year I really thought she had burned my pecan pie, but she’s a trooper, never let me down once.”

Derek walks in to see a rather nervous Bitty sitting at the kitchen table, fiddling with a strand of his golden hair. Dex’s upper body is inside the oven, a greasy white shirt lifted slightly over his navel to reveal the lining of his boxers. Well that’s…a view.

Bitty looks concerned. “Nursey, what are you doing up?”

There’s a sharp clanging noise, and both of them whip towards the oven. Dex emerges, wincing and streaked with grease. “Fuck, that hurt.”

Derek restrains his laughter. “Just checking where Dex went. Wanted to make sure a bear didn’t eat him.” He pulls up a seat at the table.

Dex frowns up at him. “I really don’t need distractions right now, okay?”

Derek holds his hands up. “Chill, I just wanted to give Bitty some moral support.”

“Oh, that’s sweet, but you both should be resting. Only Dex is saving my poor Betsy in the spirit of chivalry. I just hope she can stick out breakfast, or we’ll have to eat cereal instead of my apple crumble, and wouldn’t that just be a shame?” Bitty twists the same curl around his finger, more rapidly now.

“No worries, Bits. If anyone can fix it, it’s Dex.”

Dex looks at him skeptically, as if waiting for the punch line, but Derek merely looks back at him with what he hopes is sincerity. It might have worked, since Dex nods. “Another minute and I think she’ll be fine.” He disappears back inside Betsy.

Bitty claps his hands together in delight. “William Poindexter, I will bake you a pie the size of Alaska if you can pull this off.”

Derek grins. “That’s a lot of pie. Care to share?”

Dex’s muffled reply: “Hell no.”

Before Derek can snark back, Bitty begins to regale him with the long, tumultuous history of Betsy’s life. She really is a trooper; after last year’s triple-maple-sugar-pie disaster, it’s a wonder that she’s pulled through for this long.

Finally Dex emerges again, this time with a victorious smirk. “She’s good to go.”

Bitty flat-out squeals. “Dex, you’re an angel!” Then he glances at his phone. “Mercy me, look at the time. You boys go to bed now, you hear? I’m just gonna finish a little food prep.”

“You got it, Bits.” Derek walks over to Dex, who is still on the ground propped up on his elbows, and sticks out a hand. Dex self-consciously looks at his palm, covered in grime, but Derek rolls his eyes. “Come on.” He grabs Dex’s hand and pulls him up, then wipes the residue on the cleaner part of Dex’s shirt, clutching the fabric near his waist.

Dex yelps at the sudden contact. “Don’t touch me!”

“Cool it, princess, it’s from your dirty hand.”

“Boys! No fighting.” Under the heat of Bitty’s stern look, they shuffle out obediently.  

Dex sighs as they’re exiting the Haus. “Ugh, I need a shower.”

“Agreed, bro. You smell rank.”

“Screw you, dude. What did you even want?”

“Just here to indulge in my handyman fantasies.” He winks.

“Wh-what the fuck?” Dex sputters, immediately flushing until he’s the color of a tomato. “Where’d you pull that one from?”

Oh man, this is too funny. “Kidding. Take it easy, bro.”

Dex snaps, “You’re disgusting.” Ouch. Well, he can’t say he didn’t earn it, but that stings a bit. Dex is rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably, still red from head to toe. God, he’s so no-homo it hurts.

Fine, so maybe he baits Dex. And maybe he’s attempting to befriend a possible homophobe. Whatever. He can still be nice. “I meant it, I was just wondering where you went. Plus I figured I should say sorry for, you know. The bonfire.”

Dex stares at him for a moment, still flushed, before breaking into a smirk. “Did you just apologize over a marshmallow debate?”

“Hey, I’m trying to be the bigger person here.”

“You want a cookie?”

“Oy, Poindexter, don’t be a dick.”

“…Sorry.” Derek’s eyebrows shoot up. “If you want to torch them first, be my guest, as long as I don’t have to eat them.”

“I will literally strangle you.” Before Dex can react, he hurries on. “Anyway, I wanted to ask about dinner. You know, Lardo’s orders.”

“Dinner?” There’s an oddly strained note to Dex’s voice, but before Derek can figure it out, they turn the corner to see Chowder and Farmer making out outside her cabin. And it is…wow. Hot and heavy. Both he and Dex freeze, but clumsy as always, Derek’s sudden stop sends a rock skittering towards the couple. They break apart, Chowder looking panicked and mortified.

Chowder begins stammering. “D-Dex! Nursey! I was, ah, we were…”

Farmer, a little more in control of herself, tucks a strand of hair behind her ears and says smoothly, “Goodnight, boys.”

Derek nods in reply, looking mock serious. “Goodnight, kids.”

Dex waves with a pleased grin. “Have fun!” Oh man, they are going to give Chowder so much shit tomorrow. They immediately scurry away, and as soon as they’re safely out of earshot, turn to each other with matching smirks. “Did you see that? Chowder’s face was fucking priceless!”

“I wish I took a photo, dude. Farmer was so chill, too!”

“We need to find him at breakfast.”

“Duh!” They grin at each other. Derek can’t remember what they had been talking about, so they continue brainstorming ways to tease Chowder all the way back to the cabin.

 

* * *

 

At breakfast the next day they rag Chowder mercilessly until the poor kid stands up, pink in the face, and marches out of the Haus with his apple crumble. Then they have to chase after him and apologize, which ends up involving a headlock and some metaphors about love involving the San Jose Sharks. Still, at the end of the day Chowder is a big softie, and he ends up telling them that he and Farmer are officially going out.

“Congrats, dude!” Derek holds out his fist for a fist-bump.

Dex ruffles Chowder’s hair. “I’m happy for you.”

Chowder beams. “Well, I just hope that I can be a good boyfriend. I’ve never dated anybody before, but Caitlin is really nice and smart and funny and…” He trails off before whispering, “She’s a really good kisser.”

Derek whoops loudly, “Get it!” A couple of campers exiting the Haus turn to stare at him, and Dex elbows him hard in the ribs. “Ow, my bad.”

Dex puts his hand on Chowder’s shoulder. “You’ll be great, man. Don’t worry.”

Chowder nods shyly. “A-anyway, I need to go set up for arts and crafts, but I’ll see you guys later!” He stands up and heads for the Haus door, but looks back. “Oh, and Dex, thanks for the advice. Before. You really helped me!”

Dex just nods once, looking a bit uncomfortable. “No problem, dude.” Wait, what? Dex has been dispensing romantic advice?

Derek stares at Chowder’s retreating back, amazed. “Yo, what was the advice?”

“Nothing. I just told him to go for it.”

“What, no tips about snagging the ladies?”

Dex shakes his head. “I haven’t been in a relationship before. So.”

Oh. It’s surprising, but it doesn’t _not_ fit in with what he knows about Dex. “Not even dates?”

“I went on dates. Things just didn’t work out.”

“Gotcha.” Derek’s been in…three relationships? No, four. He’s been technically single through first year at NYU, but the one-night stands have been plentiful. Somehow he doubts that Dex would participate in hook-up culture, unless Boston University has some sort of fraternity for computer science nerds. He’s not really sure what to say. Does Dex wish he had dated? Is he uninterested? Maybe there’s a girl he likes back at his university. He doesn’t know Dex well enough to be privy to these things.

Speaking of getting to know one another, they were supposed to have that dinner that Lardo ordered, but somehow Dex has been shifty about it. Apparently the idea of dinner with Nursey sounds truly awful to him, which is a crappy feeling. But does it matter? It’s mandatory. “So about the dinner that Lardo ordered. Tomorrow night sound good? We can take your truck, go into town…”

“Why?” Derek’s losing patience here, but when he turns, he realizes that Dex is asking a genuine question. “We could just do it in the dining hall…”

“I don’t know. We’re supposed to get to know each other. I figured you’d be more chill if we had some privacy. Plus Bitty makes great food, but don’t you just want to eat out somewhere for once?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess.” Dex still looks a bit unhappy, but that’s not Derek’s problem. It’s fine. One dinner won’t kill them.  
  
“Cool.” Derek stands up and, smooth as ever, nearly trips over his own feet. Oh shit. The onslaught of chirps is coming.  
  
Dex smirks up at him. “Nice one. You know, most people learn to walk around the age of 1.”

“Ha ha, you’re a riot and a half.” He stalks back towards the Haus door.  
  
Dex calls after him, “It’s okay, Nursey, some of us are just slow learners! You’ll get there one day!”

Friendship? It’s hard to know if this dance qualifies, riling Dex up or escaping him, laughing together or at each other’s throats. But at the end of the day, Ransom is right: they’re stuck with each other all summer, for better or worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's...alive! Look at that, I didn't abandon my dumb children. Subscribe and I promise that I will finish this fic with lots of cute payoff, but I do not promise to do it in a timely fashion because I am a busy sloth. 
> 
> As always, feedback is much appreciated, especially about how true I'm being to the characters. Thank you for reading!


	5. Nerves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will is not looking forward to dinner.

The best way Will’s found to counter anxiety is running. That’s why he did track when hockey wasn’t in season. Every day he wakes up early and runs a mile around Samwell Lake, enjoying the occasional grey heron sighting and the soft pinks of dawn. He shuts down his brain and relishes the sensation of his legs straining. Occasionally Jack is also there, but he’s too shy to ask about running together, and he would only slow Jack down. They ignore each other, with Will only vaguely aware of another set of pounding footsteps.

He’s alone under the gray skies now, trying to clear his head as his sneakers kick dust up from the dirt trail around the lake. Unfortunately, today he can’t outrun his own thoughts. Will lied to Nursey. Okay, more like he fudged the truth. He hasn’t been on dates; he’s been on _a_ date. Once. And it was a disaster.

The BU freshman dorms were a horny place (shocker). Despite being too old-fashioned for grinding in a dark frat basement with thumping music, even he’d wanted to try dating, especially since he wanted to reassure himself that he was just like the other guys out girlfriend-hunting. Suzie was his group project partner in Marketing, she had a cute brown bob and black hipster glasses, she liked hockey and worked at the library. He asked her out after they got an 87 on their paper, and she smiled and didn’t notice that his hands were shaking. He didn't really feel anything for her, but he was anxious all the same.

When they arrived at Bertucci’s, his nerves betrayed him. Forget witty or charming; he could barely manage intelligible. He knocked his fork onto the floor, answered questions abruptly, and spent much too long talking about types of lobster traps. Halfway through the date, she yawned. They skipped dessert. In the parking lot, they tried making out inside his beat-up truck, but the obvious lack of attraction ended that pretty soon as well.

The evening confirmed two things for him. One: girls just aren’t his deal. Which, well, he has done his best not to think too much about. Two: he’s boring. He’s really, really boring.

Dinner with Nursey tonight shouldn’t bother him the way it does. For starters, it’s not a date; it’s two co-workers hanging out. Except it’s similar enough if they have to talk about their lives, and God forbid, their feelings. What personal stuff have they ever brought up? They’ve discussed favorite movies, preferred gym workouts, and occasionally mentioned parents. Politics are a minefield, but honestly he’d take that over talking about himself. He’d rather explain the rules of baseball until Nursey falls asleep on the table.

The problem is that he can’t figure out what talking about himself means. From what Will knows, Nursey is well-traveled, has all sorts of interesting friends that he’s done crazy shit with, and to top it off, is a good storyteller. Will has a normal family and normal friends. Snooze.

There’s no alternative but getting through it. Still, it can’t hurt to pray that Nursey holds up at least 90% of the conversation.  

His mile time is pretty slow, and he doesn’t feel refreshed at all. After stretches, he makes his way back to the cabin. When he opens the door to #14, Nursey is sitting up in bed, shirtless and glowering hatefully at his alarm clock.

Will can’t restrain his chuckle. “Morning.”

“Mmph.” Nursey’s attempt at speech fails miserably.

“I need to shower, so you can lie down for ten more minutes.”

With an obedient nod, Nursey flops back down. If only he was this pliable when he was fully awake.

Will enjoys the cool rivulets of water streaming down his skin, but his thoughts start to return to Nursey’s bare chest, the gorgeous tattoo on his bicep, and he groans. He’s sick of this physical attraction. They fight all the time and they definitely aren’t compatible, so he just needs to _shut down_ this part of his brain. Plus the part freaking out about dinner tonight. In fact, Will’s whole life would be much easier if he could just stop thinking.

He emerges from the shower, and of course, Nursey is in a dead sleep. Will shakes his shoulder and Nursey starts. “Hrrrrrmph.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go shower.”

“Mmmm.” Nursey practically stumbles to the bathroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He emerges ten minutes later, damp and looking somewhat functional. “Bro, what exactly possesses you to go running in the middle of the night?”

Will glances up from the long email he’s composing to his family. “6 AM is not the middle of the night. I wanted to have time to write home, so I went early.”

“Okay, golden boy, make me look like a slacker. Tell your folks I said hi.”

“They don’t even know who you are, though.”

Nursey plops down at the foot of Will’s bed. “So? I’m your roommate, I have greeting privileges. Just do it, man.”

Will can’t fathom why his parents and siblings would care, but he doesn’t have the energy for this. He types, _P.S. My roommate Nursey says hello,_ and turns the screen around to face Nursey. To his surprise, Nursey is grinning from ear to ear. “What?”  
  
“Nothing. You were just so chill about it. It was refreshing.” Will rolls his eyes, but his retort gets cut off as Nursey continues. “I checked last night. We’ll take your truck into Farmington, which isn’t far off. There’s a bunch of restaurants. I got mad hungry looking at the menus.”

“…Yeah. Cool.” He goes back to typing, trying to focus on his email and not the heat of Nursey’s dissatisfied stare. After a beat, Nursey stands up with an audible sigh and goes back into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Will feels vaguely nauseous and dinner is still ten hours away.

 

* * *

 

He figures he shouldn’t use up any conversation topics he’s thought of over lunch, so he tells Nursey that he’s going to eat on his own. He knows he should attempt some sort of excuse, but he can’t think of anything plausible. After all, the campers are all in the Haus dining hall, and he’s not really friends with anyone besides his frog trio and Bitty, who’s busy making minestrone soup in the kitchen.

Nursey frowns, but merely says, “Sure. I’ll tell C and Farmer.”

“Thanks.” He carries his Cajun chicken pizza and water bottle outside before realizing he has no idea where he’s going to eat. Aimlessly, he wanders until he finds a picnic table on the other side of camp and sits down. Already he regrets this; it’s lonely out here. He’s probably missing Chowder’s enthusiastic replay of art class, Farmer’s bizarre phobia of rabbits, and Nursey recounting the gossip from Ransom and Holster.

It’s then that he hears a familiar voice behind him. “Well if it isn’t Poindexter, banished to the farthest corners of the camp. What are you doing out here, brah?” Shitty plops himself on the bench, pizza in hand.  
  
“Uh. Eating.” He’s really not in the mood for another lecture on the…what was it? Kyriarchy, or maybe the patriarchy. He mixes them up. Yeah, he realizes that he’s unintentionally been pretty dick-ish to some people, specifically chicks and not white people and gay people. He’s trying. But not everyone grew up with the liberal PC police hovering around them, and it sucks that somehow he’s a bad person for being left behind.

Shitty arches a thick brown eyebrow, and for some reason that makes his mustache twitch. “Funny enough, I worked that out with my powers of observation. What I’ve also realized is that you are a terrible fuckin’ communicator, and therefore it is my solemn duty as head counselor to wring the truth out of you. So. Let’s hear it.”

Will tries not to wither under Shitty’s gaze, but all the lectures about repressed emotions and fragile masculinity come bubbling back up to his mind. Fine. He swallows a bite. “I have to have dinner with Nursey in Farmington tonight. Because of Lardo. Well, because we fought, so she wants us to get to know each other.”

“I see.”

He didn’t expect a non-response, but maybe Shitty’s just dissatisfied. “Nursey and I aren’t really fighting anymore, though. Or. Not serious fighting. I’m just…not good at talking about myself.”

“So you’re eating by yourself out here because?”  
  
“I…” He trails off. It’s too silly to tell someone else.

Shitty runs a hand through his luxurious hair. “Look, Dex, I don’t wanna be, like, preachy. I get that everyone has comfort zones. But maybe look at this like it’s a fucking opportunity, not a curse! Good friends can be vulnerable with each other because there’s trust, you know?”

“I…guess.”

“Like, Nursey’s your friend, so trust that he’s gonna hear you out. Hiding out here doesn’t make things better. Take it from me, brah, shutting people out never works. Especially people who care.”

He’s not sure if Nursey cares about him, but he sees the point. It was a stupid idea. “I already said I was eating by myself, though.”

Shitty stands and motions for him to get up as well. “No worries, brah, I’ll walk you back. We’ll just say you just had to talk to me. In fact, I’m crashing frosh lunch.”

He’s embarrassed and ashamed that Shitty has to take care of him like this. He’s a counselor, not a kid. But he appreciates it anyway. “Thanks, Shitty. Sorry. It was dumb.”

 “No apologies. You know, Dex, I have to teach you way fucking more about the world, but I’m happy you take it to heart. You can always come to me with your problems, and I promise to keep all this shit locked up. We’re friends, right?” He holds out his fist.

Wow. He hasn’t really thought of Shitty as his friend so much as his unwanted mentor, and most of the time they spend together feels like detention or some sort of uncomfortable therapy session. But he bumps fists anyway. “Yeah.”

“Sweet.” They enter the Haus and make their way over to his friends. Farmer and Chowder wave, looking pleased, but Nursey’s eyebrows are furrowed. “What’s up, my frogs? Dex and I are joining you, whether you like it or not.”

Nursey says to Will accusingly, “Weren’t you eating alone?”

Oh crap. “I was, uh, talking to Shitty.”

Shitty nods smoothly. “I accidentally implied that Dex had to keep it on the down-low. Perfect example of a communication pitfall.” He sits next to Chowder. “Anyway, what are we talking about?”

Chowder pipes up. “What’s better, the Winter or Summer Olympics?”

Thankfully, Nursey’s brow clears, and he slides over to make room for Will. He slings an arm around his shoulders. “Okay, but Dex, you have to be with C and me on this. Summer.”

Will shakes his head. “Winter.”

Farmer pumps her fist. “Yes! I knew I could count on Dex to come through. Shitty, you’re the tie-breaker.”

Shitty grins, leans back and strokes his mustache. “I’m undecided. Let’s hear your arguments.” A lively debate ensues, and Will can’t help but smile. He might be boring, but he’s still ended up with a lot of great friends.

Later, while they're throwing out their plates, Nursey signals for Dex to follow him. They head outside and round the corner of the Haus. He's not sure what's happening, but he definitely isn't expecting what happens. "Sorry. I was sulking today. I just thought you didn't want to get dinner with me because you don't like me. Or. Something. Anyway, it was in my head."

Guilt eats at Will from inside his chest. "No, I was being weird. I do like- I mean, we're friends. I just was worried about dinner."  
  
Nursey scratches at his temple. "Huh? Why?"  
  
"Um." He stares at his feet, hoping that a sinkhole will open up underneath him. "I'm not an interesting person. I don't have a cool life or anything, and I just didn't know if I had anything to talk about."

Nursey blinks twice. "Dex, what the hell? That's how you think about yourself? You literally argued with me for five minutes about canoe rowing techniques, and you don't think you have anything to say?"  
  
Will isn't sure how to respond to that. He knows he's boring, but he feels like talking about Suzie and the date would have weird implications for dinner.  
  
"Look, I don't know anything about your family or your non-camp friends or your college life. I want to know that stuff, whatever made you who you are. I want to hear about your hobbies and interests."  
  
"We don't have that much in common, though. You don't care about coding or hockey."  
  
"So? I want to be, like, actual friends, man. Teach me about coding or hockey or whatever. I don't care if you tell the most boring stories in the world."  
  
Will feels his worries fall away from him, shed in just a moment. "Oh. Okay. Good, because I was gonna talk about the rules of baseball."  
  
Nursey grins. "Shit. What have I done to myself?"  
  
"It's the great American pastime!"  
  
"You're not actually going to do that, are you? Please?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, I love feedback and I love you for reading.


	6. Cool It, Nurse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner, part one.

Derek forgot how nice it is to wear his own clothes. He missed his black jeans and beanies, and he definitely missed wearing army green (or really any color besides purple). He gives his hair a final once-over before emerging from the cabin.

Dex is lying on the grass outside in a Boston University t-shirt with blue flannel wrapped around his waist, which is pretty much the kind of outfit Derek would expect from him. He sits up at Derek’s arrival. “Finished your make-up?”

Derek raises an eyebrow. “Got a problem with guys who wear make-up? They exist, you know.”

“What? No, I didn’t mean it like that. It was a joke.” Dex flushes. Shitty keeps pulling him over for discussions on gender sensitivity and stereotyping, and the adjustment is relatively slow, but at least Dex seems to regret his blunders.

“It’s fine. Come on, bro, let’s move out.”  Derek feels oddly self-conscious, which means Dex is probably getting to him. Still, he's not sure what to say, so they stroll across the green in rare silence. He’s never been anywhere this quiet, yet it’s always loud here too, from the rustling breeze to the buzzing insects.

Sunset approaches; down the slope, the rippling lake is dusted with golden and coral streaks from the sky. He pauses to admire the view, waiting for Dex’s annoyance, but Dex just shoves his hands into his pockets and stares out at the water as well. Turning to face him, Derek is nearly blinded by how fiery Dex’s hair has become in the light, a piercing red-orange ruffled by the wind. It’s astonishing. It’s like poetry.

Oh man, he needs to chill. He clears his throat. “Should we go?”

Dex nods, and they start off. Jack and Shitty spot them near Dex’s truck, and Shitty wolf-whistles. “You sexy motherfuckers! Looking good, boys!” Then he whips around as if realizing that a camper might be in earshot of his foul language, which thankfully isn’t the case.

Dex rolls his eyes, his ears going pink. He’s so easy to tease. Derek merely winks back. “Don’t I always?”

Shitty laughs, but Jack’s poker face is unbreakable. “Make sure you don’t stay out too late. We start bright and early tomorrow, same as always. And no drinking.”

Dex mutters, “Aye aye, cap’n.” Derek snickers and waves goodbye as they clamber into the truck. It’s rather well-worn and its white paint is chipping, but the fact that Dex drives stick-shift with such ease is impressive.

They pull onto the highway and Derek rolls down the window, letting the cool breeze whip at his face. “Oh man, this is nice. I needed a break from camp.”

“Mmm.” Well, a response is better than nothing. He wonders if Dex is nervous again under his stoic expression. He’d never expected a firecracker like Dex to be so insecure inside, but the clues now seem obvious. He’s not unfriendly, just shy and terrible at expressing his emotions. It’s almost cute.

“You drive really well.”

“Thanks.”

Okay, maybe questions would be more effective. “Do you drive a lot?”

“Yeah, I bring it with me to school. Not too many students have trucks, so people pay me to move furniture on weekends. Plus I drive my siblings around at home.”

“Wow, that’s smart. I forgot that you have such a big family. What are your siblings like?”

Dex glances at Derek quizzically. “Um, I don’t know. Normal?”

“Describe them. Here, I’ll start. I have one older sister, Amanda, who’s 24 and just graduated Harvard Law. She’s a lot like me, but more practical and blunt. We’re pretty close. She’s dating an actor named Martin and she owns two cats named Cocoa Butter and Lemon Drop.”

“…Cocoa Butter. That poor cat.”

“Let the cat live, man. Come on, your turn.”

“Um, Natalie’s in culinary school. Matt works with my uncle on the lobster boat. We don’t talk a lot, but sometimes we work out together. And, uh, Anna likes science and has lots of friends.”

Not very detailed, but it’s a start. “That sounds fun, to have a lot of siblings. My house has been pretty boring since Amanda left for college.”

“Uh, what are your parents like?” His question is a bit stilted, but clearly Dex is trying to reciprocate.

“Well. Dad’s a banker, mom’s a housewife. They don’t get along, but they’re good parents. They’re definitely not happy that I’m here though. Or about the poetry major. My dad wanted me to intern with one of his friends in DC.” Derek shrugs. “It’s too early to worry about all that. Summer camp sounded way better. What about you, why summer camp?”

“Needed money. Pays a lot better than waiting tables or lobster fishing. I like kids.”

“Why?”

“Huh? Um, I have a lot of siblings and cousins, so maybe I’m just used to it. Plus they’re easy to understand. They get really happy over small stuff, and they don’t worry so much about…life.”

“True. I don’t like them particularly, though. I mean, counseling is fun, but I’m not really the nurturing type.”

“All the campers want to be your friend, though. You’re the cool one.” Dex is saying this to the road stretched ahead of them, but Derek is amazed. Is this his first ever compliment from William Poindexter?

“Really? But you’re a much better counselor than me, man. I know you look out for all the shy kids or the ones having a hard time. I’ve seen it.”

Dex goes a little pink, which somehow makes his freckles stand out more. “I never know what to say to them. I mostly listen.”

“That’s a skill in itself, bro.” He kinda likes this Dex, squirming because of compliments, more than the usual riled-up Dex. Just a bit.

The truck pulls onto the main street of Farmington. Families wander in and out of the long row of shops and restaurants, and strains of upbeat Latin music float in through the window. Dex asks, “Where are we eating?”

“I see a Cuban Joe’s, Tattaglia Brothers Pizza, and Crispy Wings. Pick.”

“Wings.”

“Sure. Over here on the right. You want to split?”

“If it’s nothing too crazy. I don’t really like spicy food.” Of course he doesn’t, but Derek figures being snarky defeats the purpose of dinner tonight, so he keeps his mouth shut.

The place is essentially a sports bar, black booths and TV screens alternating between baseball and basketball. They slide across from each other and scan the menus. “How about we go half honey barbecue, half teriyaki?”

Dex nods. “Sure.” Their chirpy waitress comes over, and they order the wings and two Cokes.

Derek doesn’t usually look at Dex this close-up, never notices how fascinating the amber-gold of his eyes is. Just because he’s a pain in the ass doesn’t mean he’s not a pretty one, with his slightly sunburnt but well-built arms…  
  
“Yo. Nursey?”

Derek blinks back to reality. Dinner plan #1: don’t check out the guy who is deeply uncomfortable with flirting. Plus they’re in the least romantic location possible. Seriously, Nurse, cool it. “Sorry, spaced out. I was thinking about New York pizza.”

Dex snorts. “Of course you were.”

“Man, you have to visit me in the city sometime. I would take you to the best Italian food of your life. Unless you go to Italy at some point.”

Dex looks a bit uncomfortable. “Maybe. I’ve never been to New York City, let alone outside of the country.”

“Really? What about vacations?” Derek realizes too late what he’s said and wants to kick himself. God, that was insensitive.

“Well, most of them have been camping. I went to the Grand Canyon once. In high school I went to New Orleans to build houses. I’ll bet you’ve done much cooler stuff, though.”

Frankly, he has. He thinks back to going to his friend’s house in Nairobi for Christmas, or traveling to Japan and then Chile with his family last summer. But he’s trying not to come off as an entitled douchebag here. “I’ve never built a house, though. I don’t think I’ve ever used a hammer in my life. Or a chainsaw. Power saw? Are those the same thing?”

Dex stares at him like an alien just landed on the table. “How have you lived this long?”

“Hey, I’ve used a screwdriver before! Give me credit.”

“I’m not giving you credit for sh—“ He’s interrupted by the waitress, who places a beautiful dish of wings in front of them, crispy and drowning in sauce.

Before Dex can even move, Derek has a wing in his mouth and groans in delight. “Mmm. This chicken is literal heaven.”

Dex follows suit and subsequently has the same expression of bliss. “Damn.” Somehow this tears Derek away from his food, seeing Dex looking so happy and relaxed for once, a bit of sauce smeared on his chin. He has the urge to lean across the table and wipe it away with his napkin.

Instead, he says, “Dex, you’ve got a bit of…”

“What?”

“On your chin.”

“Oh. Who cares? It’s wings, not caviar. You have eaten wings before, right?” Dex stares at him skeptically.

Derek bites back a retort. “Yeah. No. Never mind.” Right. This isn’t just Dex the shy, occasionally sweet, funny kid he’s befriended. It’s also Dex the short-fused, intolerant, argumentative bastard that he fights with almost daily. They’re just here to survive a dinner and make Lardo happy. Derek dives back into his wings, internally repeating his mantra: _seriously, Nurse, cool it._


	7. Weird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's hard to escape being self-conscious, especially when your name is William Poindexter.

Will is sharing a park bench with Nursey, licking the last of a cone full of chocolate chunk. Nursey got rum raisin, which he insists is not an old man flavor, but he already demolished it.

Nursey exclaims, “So your grandma disowned you over Pictionary!”

“ _Almost_ disowned me. That’s why we had to ban it. Plus we all know I’m Gram’s second favorite.”

Nursey looks delighted. “The Poindexters are insane. I love them.”

“Yeah, well, most of the fun happens when they’re deep into the Guinness. God forbid you show up on St. Patty’s, but Christmas break is a good time.”

“My parents never do stuff for Christmas. I mean, they travel, but your place sounds more fun.” Will can’t bring himself to believe that stockings and a tree in Maine are superior to worldwide jet-setting, but it is a bit sad that Nursey’s home doesn’t seem to be the most loving. I mean, his parents did ship him off to boarding school for most of high school, which sounds more like a punishment than a gift.

“Or you could fly me to Paris and we can get extremely high at the Eiffel Tower.”

Nursey grins devilishly. “Chyeah. That was totally worth it, dude. I’m just saying, your first time with weed should be with an expert.”

“Maybe. If you finance me all the way to France, I’ll do it.”

“Just wait. It’s gonna happen, so no take-backs.”

The ice cream is finished, but neither of them makes a move to leave. Dinner and then dessert both went surprisingly well. Nursey actually seemed intrigued when he talked about his love of comp sci and problem-solving, and when he tried to explain the success of the Golden State Warriors. He doesn’t get Nursey’s poetry major or pretentious hipster music or carefully cultivated social media, but somehow he’s actually had a good time.

“You’ve never gotten in trouble, though? I mean, for the drugs? I mean, I get how nobody notices at Coachella or whatever, but not even in school?”

Nursey’s expression suddenly darkens. “I did, once.”

“Serious trouble?”

He shrugs. “Depends what you mean by serious. Some friends and I stupidly decided to pass around a bong on the back steps at Andover, and a public safety officer turned up. You know, we were all doing it, but somehow I ended up with a gun pointing at me. Shockingly, I was the only black one.” His half-smile isn’t a smile at all; it’s bitter, or sad, or something else Dex doesn’t have a word for.

“He didn’t shoot…” His breath catches for a second just thinking about being on the wrong end of a gun.

“No, but the other two ran, and I’m also the one he hauled off. It was so racist I almost laughed. My dad made a stink later, but it was a reminder. That’s my life: one false move and I’m gone.”

Will wants to cringe. He’s heard the way his father has talked about Black Lives Matter and police brutality. His aunt is a cop, and he knows that she is brave and works tirelessly to protect people and uphold justice, but somehow he also thinks that she could be that cop hauling Nursey off the back steps. He blurts out, “Sorry,” before he can figure out what he means by it.  
  
Nursey looks bemused, but nods at him. “Yeah. Well, I’m still here.”

Will isn’t sure how to respond except, “Good.” He gets a funny look from Nursey for that, and he shifts on the bench, folding into himself a little more. This is weird and he doesn’t know how to fix it.  He can feel his ears heating up and thanks God it’s still dark out.

Thankfully, Nursey changes the subject. “Want to head back? We still have work tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Will stands up immediately, the keys in his pocket jangling.

Nursey rolls his eyes before following suit. “You could look a little less thrilled to leave.” Will starts to protest, but then he sees Nursey’s affectionate smile and the words die in his mouth. Instead he sets off for the truck at a speed-walk, eliciting a groan from Nursey. “Bro, I’m too full for this!”

“You hardly exercise here. I’m doing you a favor.”

“Fuck you, man. I’m an Adonis. I’m gonna do _you_ a favor and make you a Snapchat so you can join us humans in the 21 st century.”

“Thanks but no thanks,” Will replies, lifting himself into the driver’s seat. “Unlike you, I can survive without people constantly seeing my face.”

“You’re missing out, man.” Nursey shuts the door behind him, and Will backs the car out and starts back towards camp. “What I do is art. They hang my selfies in the Met.”

It’s easier, this banter, much more comfortable. He leans one arm out the window as he drives, trading quick jabs. He wants this Nursey, witty and antagonistic and incomprehensible, not the one who gives him looks that seem to cut straight to his bones. He’s lucky that they’ve managed to work out a friendship, and he has to do whatever he can not to make it weird.

 

* * *

  

The next morning, Lardo walks over to the frogs’ breakfast table and asks, “Have a nice date?”

Will nearly spits out his milk. Nursey grins. “We got wings, it was crazy romantic.”

Chowder grabs his napkin and hands it to Will. “It wasn’t a date! Was it?” His eyes widen as if he’s started to imagine the possibilities.

Will hurries to shut him down. “Hell no.”

Nursey sighs. “Clearly it wasn’t a _nice_ date.” Farmer giggles, and Will steps on Nursey’s foot in retaliation, causing him to yelp.

Lardo fixes them with an arched eyebrow. “Okay, but for real, I’m glad to see that you’re working well together now. Keep it up.”

“Yes sir,” mutters Will, and Nursey snorts. Lardo shakes her head at them before heading back to Shitty and Jack.

Nursey leans a little closer. “Babe, don’t say you didn’t have a good time.”

Will immediately gets to his feet and collects the plates to dump in the trash. He speeds off without a word, trying to seem more annoyed than mortified. He can hear Farmer say something that sets off a round of laughter, and his stomach sinks. Are they laughing at him? He doesn't want to consider it, so he tries to focus on daily duties over not-dates.

 

* * *

 

That afternoon, the younger kids have free play instead of organized sports. Nursey gets a game of freeze tag going, while Jack starts a Frisbee circle. A few campers are playing double dutch. Will is in a game of four-square when he notices someone drawing alone with chalk on the other side of the asphalt. He loses on purpose and pretends to be mortified when the kids start chanting, “We beat you! We beat you!”

He makes his way over and sees a second grader, Rekha, drawing what looks like a princess but may also be a funky-looking skyscraper. He can tell that she’s upset; her lower lip is quivering, and her angry strokes snap her blue chalk in half. He sits down next to her. “You don’t want to play with everyone else?”

She glares at him. “No.”

He nods, unsure of how to progress. “Is anything wrong?”

She drops her chalk and fiddles with the end of her black braid, staining it with pastel colors. “I don’t want to play any of those games. I want to hula hoop. I wanted to hula hoop yesterday too, but nobody will.”

He feels like he’s supposed to say something about learning to share, but he’s no good at that stuff. “I’ll hula hoop with you.”

Her face lights up immediately, and she shoots up, tugging on his hand. “Come on!”

Most of the hula hoops are barely larger than the width of Will’s hips. She picks one up and twirls it around her body with ease, but even the largest one hardly spins around him. Not to mention that he has no idea how to hula hoop. He wiggles his hips ineffectively, and it clatters on the ground.

“No, like this!” Rekha twirls the hoop in a fluid motion, then gestures for him to do the same. He tries it and fails spectacularly. He’s sure he’s disappointed her, but instead she giggles. “You’re silly.”

He grins. “I’m going to do it! Just watch!” He messes up again, and then again, and she collapses on the ground in a laughing fit. The freeze tag kids take a water break, and some of them wander over and join the giggles. Three more kids attempt to teach him, trying to talk over each other with their directions, but clearly they all enjoy how terrible he is at this.

When he glances over at the water stand, Nursey is watching him with a proud smile as he wipes sweat from his forehead with a towel. He flashes Will a thumbs up, eyes crinkling. Will blushes immediately and his heart stutters in his chest.

Oh.

Oh no.


	8. Bored

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some truths come to light.

“Dex, I’m bored.”

Dex glances up from behind his laptop screen. “Congratulations.”

“Come on, bro, take one night off.”

“I have to finish this before August.”

Derek shuts his copy of _Catalog of Unabashed Gratitude_ and instead grabs for his phone. For the past month he’s been so occupied that he forgot how isolated Camp Samwell is. The campers are funny, lively, and exhausting, which is the ideal combination for keeping busy. Every second he’s dealing with someone screaming over the cockroach in their bathroom or scraping a knee on the pavement. Now these campers are more settled, though, and without the constant stream of demands, he’s remembered that he’s currently in the middle of nowhere.

Checking Instagram is a terrible decision. Soheil posted a picture of a latte from Brooklyn Roasting Company, Zachariah and Macy took a selfie at the Guggenheim, Monica bought Sufjan Steven tickets for next week, and everyone at Noor’s birthday party got shitfaced on Blue Label. He misses city life: art galleries, museums, parties, restaurants, concerts. Nature is beautiful and all, but it’s getting a bit repetitive.

Dex announced three days ago that he wants to start his coding projects for the fall semester, so he spends every night plugged into his laptop with earphones in. Which is cool: it’s not like they don’t spend all day counseling together, and the frogs still eat all their meals as a group. Derek also has poetry to be reading, so he’s been diving into Danez Smith and Mary Oliver and Percy Shelley. But this is the third night in a row that he’s been buried in a book, and he can’t bring himself to read another stanza.

He shifts his pillow and rolls over onto his stomach to face Dex, who is entirely absorbed in typing. Dex bites at his lip to concentrate, which is cute. Derek lifts his phone up to take a Snapchat and Dex glances up at the motion, then frowns. “Knock it off.”

“Even an hour, man. I promise you’ll get it done. Please?”

Dex looks tempted, but then shakes his head. “Sorry. You have other friends, hang out with them.”

“Seriously? This is that pressing? You didn’t even look at these projects for all these weeks and now you can’t do anything else.” Derek lifts himself off his own bed, only to walk over and flop onto Dex’s. “I can’t believe my puppy dog eyes don’t work on you, babe.”

As if on cue, Dex flushes and rolls his eyes. “Gross. Also, no.”

Derek lets out a melodramatic sigh, then sits up and looks Dex in the eyes. “Fine. But if I die of loneliness, the blame falls on your shoulders.”

Dex fidgets before replying, “I think you’ll survive. Get off my bed and bother someone else.” He shoves Derek, who sighs even more dramatically before making his way back to his poetry books.

 

* * *

 

The next day is relatively quiet: no spills, no screaming, no lost shoes. Normally that would be a blessing, but Derek is itching for something to do. He and Jack already cleaned out the sports closet last week, during which Jack attempted to explain hockey rules to him but never actually clarified the meaning of “hat trick” or “icing” enough to be understandable. Dex is MIA, most likely recruited to revive poor Betsy again. He spends the afternoon playing basketball with the older kids, but that mostly involves making sure nobody knocks down tiny Jason or Kiera.

He knocks on Lardo’s door before dinner. A blond girl with an unfortunate name like Kyleighla or Gynifer or something exits, looking chastised. He shuts the door behind him and takes a seat while Lardo mutters something inaudible, twirling a pencil between her fingers.

“Question.”

“Yeah, nice to see you too. I need a fifteen-hour nap.”

“Please tell me you have a bong on you. A joint. A brownie. Whatever.”

She fixes him with a stern look. “You still have a job to do. Which you should be doing. Now.”

“I meant tonight. I just need to relax, you know? Get out of my head.”

“Something on your mind?”

“No, just…I’m bored. Restless. I’m going stir-crazy.”

She appraises him for a moment, then nods. “Sure. Shitty has it, though, but I know he won’t say no.”

Derek grins. “Thanks, Lardo. You always come in clutch.”

She points the pencil at him. “Don’t you forget it. Go, you’re on kitchen duty.”

“Aye aye.” He stands and leaves, a bounce in his step. It’s been surprisingly long since he even thought of weed. He’s just been caught up in things, it seems. But it’ll be nice to get high and take a break.

 

* * *

 

Derek takes a deep drag, watching the smoke curl into the chamber, before lifting the bowl. He inhales the rest, feeling it swirl into his throat, before pulling his lips back from the inside of the stem and exhaling a thin stream of it. Damn, it’s been so long.

The fan is off so the hot air will keep the smell inside, but he’s not sure that it’s effective. A bead of sweat slides down the back of his neck. Even in just a tanktop, the heat seems to stick to him. Shitty has opted out of a shirt, but Derek isn’t feeling at his most exhibitionist right now. It’s been too long since he worked out.

He passes the bong and the lighter to Shitty, already feeling the day’s tension leaving him. “You sure Jack won’t care? It’s his room, too.”

Shitty shakes his head. “We started early for a reason, brah. By the time _The Parent Trap_ is over, we’ll be done. Plus Holster is gonna pause it to go on a rant because I told Jack it stars Emma Thompson instead of Natasha Richardson.” He giggles, mustache quivering, before lighting up.

Lardo picks up two air freshener bottles and waves them at him. “We have lavender breeze and tropical citrus. We’re fine.”

Derek flashes her a thumbs up. “Thanks, guys. I needed this.”

Shitty puffs out three perfect smoke rings in succession. “Really, I’m just surprised this didn’t happen sooner, brah.”

Derek shrugs, already feeling loose-limbed and happy. “I feel like I didn’t have time to miss it until now. Plus, none of the other frogs would be interested.”

“Yeah, where’s Dex been hiding? That slippery motherfucker.” Shitty chuckles to himself as if this is supposed to mean something. “Secret trysts, maybe? A steamy romance on the sly? Like one of those paperback bodice-rippers.”

Lardo grins, eyes glinting. “Honestly, wouldn’t he be the blushing maiden?”

Shitty sits up immediately. “You’re so right.”

The mental image of pink-faced, starry-eyed Dex with his loose white shirt torn open and a sunset behind him would be funny if Derek didn’t find it strangely attractive. Especially if he was in Derek’s arms. Shit, he seriously has to reel himself in. “Nah, he’s holed up in our room, unless he’s getting serious action from his computer.”

Shitty shrugs. “Whatever floats his boat, man.”

Lardo rolls her eyes. “Okay, movie time?” They pull up _Princess Mononoke_ (and she insists, “as a fellow artist who understands the effort that goes into creative content,” on paying for it). Derek leans back against Shitty’s bedpost and allows himself to be absorbed in the story.

 

* * *

 

By the time they finish watching and clear out the smell, the high is mostly gone. Derek is ready for bed but still happy, though, whistling the theme song softly as he heads back to #14. He ducks over to the Haus first to pick up a couple chocolate chip cookies for Dex, who is usually hungry when Derek snaps him out of a coding daze.

When he starts climbing the steps to #14, though, he hears Chowder cheer, “I won! I did it!”

Dex replies, “Great job, buddy.” His warm laugh sends a stab of jealousy into Derek’s heart. So Dex is too busy to hang out with him, but not with other people? He takes a deep breath, reminding himself exactly how clingy he sounds, before entering. It's just Chowder, after all.

Both boys are cross-legged on the floor, playing poker and drinking non-alcoholic cider. Chowder perks up as soon as Derek enters, but it’s Dex’s guilty expression that startles Derek out of saying anything.

Fortunately, Chowder holds up his cards. “Look, I won! I mean, we’re not playing real poker yet, but Dex is teaching me.”

Derek somewhat recovers and tosses the cookies to Chowder. “I brought your prize. I think a poker face might be an uphill battle for you, though.”

Chowder beams. “You’re the best, Nursey! Want any cider? Where were you?”

“Uh, with Lardo and Shitty. Thanks, C, but I’m pretty tired. Mind if I kick you out?” It’s true; he nearly passed out in Shitty’s room.

“No problem! I should probably sleep anyway.” Chowder collects his cider and cookie before slipping on his shoes. “Goodnight, Nursey! Goodnight, Dex! Can we play again tomorrow? I want to be a poker champion soon!”

Dex rubs the back of his neck, looking even guiltier. “Sorry, but I should probably get back to the code tomorrow. Thanks for the help.”

“Aw, well, let me know if you get stuck again.” With a cheery wave, Chowder closes the door.

Immediately, Dex turns to Derek, ignoring the scattered poker chips and cards on the floor. His voice is pitched a little too high. “He was helping me with a problem. We, uh, got distracted after we finished.”

“Yeah. No, it’s cool. You don’t need to report to me or something, dude. You can hang out with whoever you want.” His heart is sinking, though; Dex is guilty for a reason. “As long as you’re not avoiding me, I don’t care.”

Dex physically flinches, and his eyes slide towards the closet. Wow, speaking of bad poker faces. “No. Of course not. Why would I?”

Derek shrugs, unable to process this at his current level of fatigue. He tries repeating _chill_ as a mantra in his head, but his reply is sharp anyway. “No clue. You tell me.”

Dex looks a little desperate. “Nursey, I’m not—"

“I know. Sorry, I’m just tired. Ignore me.” Nursey pulls his Bulbasaur-print pajama pants out of his closet. “And seriously, you’re allowed to take a break from me, bro. It’s okay.” Before Dex can reply, he shuts the bathroom door.

Fuck. Dex is avoiding him.

He racks his brains while brushing his teeth. I mean, he was just starting to think of Dex as a close friend. The dinner happened. And then…then he started making the jokes about their first date. Not constant, just occasionally dropping ‘babe’ or giving him a flirty wink. Admittedly, he was doing it to get a rise out of Dex, but up until now Dex had just brushed the teasing off.  

Annoyance he can accept; after all, he’s spent a few days fake-hitting on someone as doggedly straight as Dex. But pretending like nothing’s wrong instead of telling him to lay off is somehow worse. He can deal with a cease-and-desist order, but at the end of the day Derek is bisexual, and apparently this makes Dex so uncomfortable that he doesn’t want to hang out one-on-one anymore. So what, Dex thinks he’s gross or predatory? Well, screw him. Screw his fucking homophobic defense-of-marriage values, and screw him for not being able to have a conversation like an adult.

Looking up at the mirror, Derek realizes he’s flossed so hard his gums are bleeding. Crap. He tries to wash the bitterness from his mouth before leaving the bathroom.

Dex is staring at him from his bed, looking intensely worried, but apparently has chosen not to say anything. Good. Derek flops into bed, covering his head with the blanket, and wills his exhaustion to leach back into him so he can stop thinking. He’s out like a light.

 

* * *

 

When he wakes up, his alarm hasn’t gone off yet. The stress is physically manifesting: his neck is stiff and his mouth is stranded-in-the-desert levels of dry. He immediately chugs his whole water bottle before glancing around. Dex is out running. He goes to shower and attempts to compose a speech that’s even marginally less spiteful than he feels.

By the time Dex comes back, sweaty and with his hair mussed, Derek is dressed and sitting on his bed, reading an article on the rise of peanut allergies. Dex manages to squeak out, “Hey.”

“Yo.” Derek exhales through his nose loudly before beginning his _calm, don’t-raise-your-voice_ tirade. “Look, bro, I know it sounds crazy and jealous to say you’re avoiding me because you hung out with C one time. But I know you are and I know that finishing all your coding stuff is bullshit, okay? And I’m pretty sure the problem is all the dating jokes and the nicknames. Which you could have just told me, using your _mouth_ , but I’ll lay off. If you actually need me to, like, spell it out for you, I don’t want to date you and I certainly don’t want to fuck you. But I _am_ bi, so if you can’t deal with that, screw you.”

Dex looks petrified and surprisingly wounded. “Nursey, you’re—that’s not it. It’s not bullshit.”

Seriously? Lying? “Okay, so what is it? Tell me.”

Dex is all red now, head to toe, and actual tears are welling in his eyes. “You’re wrong. You’re wrong about me, okay? I don’t—I can’t handle the jokes.”

“I got that, Captain No-Homo.”

“Can you stop being an asshole for one second, Nursey?” Dex raises his voice. “Can you let me talk for one fucking second?”

“Okay, fine, then talk! Tell me what’s so scary about the Big Bad Bisexual.”

“I’m not…it’s…” The look Dex gives him is almost pleading.

“Oh no, don’t tell me.” Derek smirks. “You’re coming out as Republican.”

Dex's sharp, hysterical laugh catches him off guard. “Are you serious? It’s because I’m gay, you fucking prick!”

The entire world grinds to a screeching halt. “…You’re what?”

Dex’s teary eyes widen almost comically, like slow-motion, before he whirls around and flees the cabin at top speed, leaving an entirely stunned Derek behind him.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My goodness, I hit the most painful writer's block for weeks. Couldn't figure out whether to start the drama sooner or later, but eh, here goes nothing! I hope I've erred on the side of good-dramatic and not overly-dramatic. Anyway, I hope you lovely readers get stabbed in the heart by your feelings. Just you wait for the upcoming Dex chapter. 
> 
> Promise I have never smoked marijuana. That was all Google, so nobody judge me if I got it wrong. 
> 
> Also, sincerest apologies to all the Kyleighlas and Gynifers of the world.


	9. Outcomes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dex just needs a moment to cry.

Will has envisioned a million nightmare scenarios for coming out, but none of them were quite like this.

He’s stifling back sobs, his body trembling from the adrenaline, and all he wants to do is curl up somewhere and pretend not to exist. He passes some campers but he hides his face each time, dropping to tie his shoe or turning away from them, until he can make it to his truck. It’s only halfway there that he realizes he forgot his keys. Shit. He wants to climb into the backseat and hide. Instead he sits in the grass next to the truck, wiping snot onto his shirtsleeve and trying to stop crying.

_I don’t want to date you and I certainly don’t want to fuck you._

This stupid, stupid crush was embarrassing enough without the harsh rejection that he didn’t even ask for. Does Nursey know? Has he put the pieces together? Will wishes he could take it all back, wishes he didn’t always make the dumbest possible decisions. If only he could laugh off the teasing and stop blushing and act _normal_ for once in his goddamn life. Jesus, it’s like he sets himself up to get hurt.

After possibly ten minutes, he hears footsteps and frantically wipes at his face. It’s Jack, who looks incredibly taken aback as he rounds the truck and sees Will’s blotchy cheeks. “Oh. Dex. You, uh, you’re…are you okay? You didn’t come to breakfast. Nursey was worried.”  
  
Jack’s a nice guy, but frankly, the last thing Will wants to do is talk to Captain Robot. “I’m fine. Just not hungry.”

Unfortunately, Jack doesn’t seem willing to leave. “Look, if you need somebody…to talk to…I could go get someone else if that would be better…”

“You don’t need to do that,” Will snaps. But Jack is immovable, merely stands there with an increasing aura of concern. “Fine! …Bitty.” I mean, he knows it’s wrong to stereotype or whatever, but Bitty is definitely gay. Like, Beyonce-loving, former-figure-skater gay. But more importantly, Bitty listens to everything without judgment and is usually accompanied by dessert.

Jack nods once and disappears, and Will attempts more urgently to collect himself. He rips out blades of grass from around him and focuses on steadying his wavering breaths. In, hold it, out. In, hold it, out again. It’s not long before the scent of pie wafts towards him, and of course, magically, it’s cherry.

Bitty rounds the truck with a cardboard box in both hands, looks into Will’s eyes, and says, “Oh, _honey._ ”

“Bitty, I—” A fresh wave of tears spills over right away. Shit. Ashamed, he tries to turn his face away. Immediately a box of tissues is being shoved into his hand. He collects himself and blows his nose loudly, and turns to see a steaming slice of pie on a paper plate waiting.

Wordlessly, Bitty hands him hand sanitizer and a damp towel to wipe his face with. “I was worried when you skipped breakfast. Eat first. Talk second. I have plenty of time, so don’t you worry.”

Gratefully, Will scarfs the pie down. It’s sheer heaven, and he focuses on that comforting taste. It’s a Thanksgiving table packed with loud Poindexters clamoring for a slice. It’s his mother in the kitchen after he lost his first hockey match, smoothing down his hair and saying one of her truisms: _Will, sometimes things hurt, but nothing is the end of the world. I promise._

Of course, she doesn’t know that he likes men.

Before he knows it, he’s swallowed the last bite. Bitty puts a gentle hand on his arm. “Do you want a minute, or are you ready to talk?”

“Yeah. No. I just don’t know how to say…it.”

“Hm. All Nursey told us was that he screwed up. Would it help if I asked questions?”

“Maybe not.” It’s just something he has to say. “Um, Nursey thought I was avoiding him because I’m homophobic. But that’s not true.”

Bitty blinks at him, eyebrows raised. “Is that why you wanted to talk to me?”

He takes a deep breath to steady himself and half-whispers, “I was avoiding him because I like him. I’m gay.”

“ _Oh._ Oh my. You told him that?”

“Just the second…thing.” Will bites his lip and looks at Bitty nervously. “Sorry. It’s really not just because you’re, uh, also like me. You’re just a good listener. And pie.”

“No, sugar, it’s a good thing. I get it. You want to tell me the whole story?”

He starts with the fake flirting and progresses from there. Relating the crush to someone else is a new level of mortifying, and he refuses to make eye contact, shredding grass methodically as he talks. Bitty actually winces when he quotes the worst part of their argument. “Then I ran. So now he knows.”

Bitty lets out an exasperated sigh. “Lord, Derek Nurse is the densest individual on the planet. But you’re giving him too much credit if you think he’s figured anything out. He’s too busy feeling awful for what he said.”

“Maybe, but he was so ready to think the worst of me, you know? It’s so fucked up that I thought he was one of my best friends. Which is so stupid. It’s just because we’re stuck in this camp together. It’s like friendship Stockholm syndrome.”

“No, of course not. You know it was his defense mechanisms talking, right?”  
  
Will can’t bring himself to say yes. He had trusted that Nursey actually thought he was a good person despite their differences. And he hadn’t expected anything in terms of romance, and he should have known this already, but it stings to know that Nursey meant it when he said he didn’t find Will attractive.

Bitty changes the subject. “Have you told anyone else that you’re gay? Friends? Family? Anyone at school?”

He shakes his head. “Nobody at home would understand. And I only figured it out last year, so.”

“Oh, sugar. Then first thing, you are wonderful the way you are. And I’m grateful that you trusted me.”

“Please…please don’t tell anyone else.”

“Of course I won’t, hon. You know, I haven’t told my family. I’m from a small town, and my mom might understand, but my dad? Everyone at church? Not so much.”

“Really? But you’re so…” Will realizes what he’s said and immediately clamps his mouth shut. Way to go, Poindexter.

Bitty just gives him a knowing half-smile. “I seem pretty obvious, right? Sometimes people don’t see what they don’t want to see. But the best thing was going to a place where I could tell people who would accept me. It’s hard and it’s scary, but I am glad to be out of the closet here. I’m not saying you should tell anyone before you’re ready, but nobody here has judged me once.”

He’s miles away from wanting to tell anyone else ever again, but there is some relief in knowing he’s not alone. “Thanks, Bitty.”

“Oh, don’t thank me. Are you feeling a little better?”

He glances at his shoes, which are now covered in a pile of grass bits that he’s pulled out of the ground. Whoops. “Yeah, but I don’t know what to do now. I don’t want to talk to him yet.”

“You take it at your own pace. How about I ask Nursey to give you some space until tonight? But give him a chance to apologize. Y’all do care about each other, I know it. And then if you come to the Haus, I’ll let you finish the rest of this pie yourself.”

Will manages a small grin. “I might need that.”

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t show up for sports class with Jack and Nursey as usual, instead trading kitchen duties with Ransom for the morning. Bitty lets him pick the music, which means classic rock, and they end up jamming out to Queen while setting tables.

The other counselors know something is up, but they have received the message and avoid asking him any questions when they see him. Lardo takes Bitty aside for some furious whispering, and then intercepts Shitty when he walks into the Haus. Everyone else is pretty busy, and he doesn’t know what they’ve heard.

It’s only at lunchtime that he sees Nursey, who walks in with a desperately apologetic face, but clearly Bitty has spoken to him because he just goes to sit with Chowder and Farmer. They wave to him, and he waves back with a strained smile before disappearing to eat his egg salad sandwich in the kitchen.

For afternoon free play, he takes up a spot far away from Nursey’s basketball game and blows bubbles with Chowder and some of the kids. He likes that they’re endlessly entertained by the shining spheres, attempting to pop them before they’re carried away by the wind.

Chowder is definitely clueless as to the day’s events, though he can sense Will’s low spirits. He spins in a circle and sends bubbles flying, and while the kids chase them, he sits next to Will. “Hey, buddy. You okay?”

“Yeah. Just tired.”

“You fought with Nursey, right?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Well, if you want to come play poker or code or something tonight, you can visit.”

It’s nice to have one friend he can undoubtedly count on. “Thanks. You’re the best.” He must really be exhausted, because he leans his head on Chowder’s shoulder.

Chowder makes a pleased sort of noise before picking up the bubble wand again and blowing vigorously. “Go get ‘em!”

 

* * *

 

Will eats dinner early, skips the night’s bonfire and instead goes back to his pickup. Laying out a sleeping bag in the bed of the truck, he sprawls out and looks up at the stars. His mind travels back to summer nights on the sea with the black ocean spread in all directions, bobbing up and down, tracing Draco and Pegasus with his father.

He jolts awake to feel someone sitting next to him. Sitting up and rubbing at his eyes, he turns to see Nursey watching him. “Crap. What time is it?”

“9:15.”

“When’d you get here?”

“Not that long ago. I don’t know if you want to hear me out right now, but please let me apologize.”

Will doesn’t want to keep looking at Nursey’s face in case he’s tempted into forgiveness. He lowers himself down with his elbows and lies on his back again. “I don’t know either.” There’s a pause where all he can hear is their gentle breaths and the crickets and the rustling grass. “Yeah, okay. Say it.”

“I’m sorry, man. I assumed all this shit about you that wasn’t true and I blew up at you because I was hurt that you avoided me, but that was totally uncool. I was a dick.”

“You were an asshole.”

“I was an asshole. Of course all of my date jokes made you uncomfortable. Even if I didn’t know you were gay, I shouldn’t have done that. I know I screwed up really bad.”

Will’s eyes water slightly. “You seemed pretty ready to believe that I was a terrible human being.”

“I should have just talked to you. I was jealous that you were hanging out with everyone else but not me.”

A lump forms in Will’s throat. He coughs once to clear it out. “Jealous?”

“Duh. You’re my best friend at camp and then you didn’t want to hang out and I kinda freaked out.”

“If we were anywhere else, you wouldn’t be friends with me. You’d have cool friends who read poems and go to parties.”

“So? What the hell does that mean?” The sharp note in Nursey’s voice surprises him. “I’m not that shallow, Dex. If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t pretend to be your friend.”

He knows that. He knows that Nursey is honest and brave and a good person, which makes liking him infinitely worse. “…You’re the first person I ever told.”

“Seriously? Me? Oh, shit. Dex, I’m so sorry. I never wanted to force you to tell me. But of course I accept you, bro, and I won’t ever tell anybody if you don’t want me to.”

Will sighs. “It’s supposed to be a good thing that I said it. And told Bitty. But I don’t…come from a place where that’s okay. It still doesn’t feel okay.”

“Honestly, I can’t imagine what it’s like to not have my family accept me. But Dex, man, you’re amazing. You’re smart and funny and reliable and guys are gonna fall for you left and right. I mean, you deserve the best relationship in the world.”

“You don’t want to save that for yourself?”

“Nah, bro, I’m already pretty lucky. I have good friends who let me get away with all kinds of BS.”

He can hear the pleading note in Nursey’s voice, and he smiles despite himself. “Yeah, you do.”

Cautiously, Nursey also lies down next to Dex and looks up at the stars. “You know anything about constellations?”

“Lots. You?”  
  
“Uh, Orion has a belt?”

“Okay, let’s start with the Little Dipper…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, I am terrible at timely updates. I hope this healing moment between these blockheads makes up for it. Outcomes! Like coming out! I'm so bad at puns. Forgive me.
> 
> I'm always somewhat unsure when writing characters about staying consistent, but I like the Dex and Nursey that fight at extremes but make up in quiet ways. One of the main appeals of their relationship to me is that neither one expects the other to like them and get them as much as they actually do, so they really enjoy the small moments as nice surprises.
> 
> As always, comments and suggestions would be super encouraging in motivating me to keep going! Thank you as always for your love.


	10. Lucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nursey's emotions have terrible timing.

The first batch of campers leaves today. A gaggle of parents swarm out of cars and rush over to their children, a happy mix of laughter and tears. A few of Derek’s favorite fifth graders, the basketball boys who had constantly pestered him for attention, tackle him in a hug that bowls him to the ground. It’s bittersweet to part with them, but he sends them off with ruffled hair and huge grins.

He pauses for a moment to watch Dex, who looks pained as he attempts to extricate himself from a little girl who is clinging to his leg and giggling in delight. The whole thing is so goddamn cute. Dex attempts to step forward with his other foot, but wobbles and immediately reverses course. Poor guy.

His amusement is interrupted when Jack calls out to him, and he jogs over. “What’s up, bro?”

“Can you find another counselor and inventory art supplies? Just in case we need to order replacements.”

“Sure, no problem.”

“Thanks, Nursey.”

When he checks again, Dex has disappeared, so he hunts Farmer down and they head to the art room. It’s covered in a panoply of stickers and macaroni art and finger paint. The tables are stained with ink and Derek spots some concerning bite marks on their edges. Kids, man.

He starts opening the marker sets and checking that they’re all full. “So how are things with you and C?”

She grins, counting safety scissors. “Good. We’re going on a date soon, and I have no clue where but I’m supposed to wear a dress. How are things with you and Dex?”

“Huh?” He loses his grip on the box and markers go clattering to the ground. “Crap.”

“Oh, not in…I wasn’t talking about romance, you walnut.”

Of course she wasn’t, because almost nobody knows that Dex is attracted to guys. Except now the awareness of it thrums in Derek’s bones, tints their interactions ever-so-slightly. It feels wrong, but now that he knows that Dex is a theoretical romantic option, Derek can’t help dwelling on how deeply attracted he is to his best friend.

Rephrase: less than a week since Derek forcibly outed him like a colossal jerkwad. At least he knows how messed up that is.

He kneels and snatches up a rolling blue one before it can escape under the cabinets. Shoving down his sharp pang of guilt, he replies noncommittally, “You know us, hot and cold.”

“Which one are you?”

He shoots her a mock-offended look. “Hot, clearly.”

She rolls her eyes. “Hey, is Dex okay? He’s such a high-stress guy, and lately…I don’t know, he just seems more tense.”

Derek would plead guilty, but it’s not his place to say anything. Technically it’s now less an issue he caused and more a spiraling existential sexuality crisis. “Homesickness, probably.”

“Aw, because it’s almost July fourth?”

“Uh, maybe?” He offhandedly switches topics, asking, “Are we good on scissors?”

“All 30. Markers are good?”

“No, there’s a couple purple ones missing. Violet? I don’t know colors.”

“Eggplant?”

“Fuchsia?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s a shade of pink. Wait, I’m Googling it.” She pulls out her iPhone, which is decorated with a large Captain America sticker. “It’s…no, I can’t tell. No clue. Maybe it’s both.”

“Huh."

“What were we talking about?”

Nothing major. Just the stress that Dex is feeling from grappling with deeply ingrained homophobia and a tendency to spiral alone, which Derek tries to help with while still trying to prove that he’s a trustworthy friend who cares and not a complete douchebag.

“No idea. Anyway, if you had to pick a Chris, which one: Hemsworth, Evans, Pratt, Rock, or Martin?”

“That’s not even a question. Did you seriously include Chris Martin on that list and not Chris Pine? What are your tastes?”

 

* * *

 

Without the kids, dinner is a raucous affair. All the counselors gather at one large table, passing around grilled corn and ribs and burgers. They end up in a heated debate on what makes a worthy superhero movie.

Derek eyes his roommate cautiously; Dex has been withdrawn in the past few days, though he tries to look cheerful. But now his eyes are glinting with passionate outrage, a familiar spark that Derek infinitely prefers.

Lardo shrugs. “I’m just saying that he’s like a cup of good Christian vanilla. Give me a well-done villain any day. Magneto, am I right?” Derek nods in agreement. The right nemesis, i.e. Heath Ledger’s portrayal of the Joker, can make or break a movie.

“I don’t care if he’s a Jesus metaphor or not.” Farmer shakes her head. “Captain America has the best fight scenes.”

Chowder burps loudly. “I like all of them! I just want to watch the bad guys get their butts kicked!”

Ransom pours Holster another glass of Coke. “I’m just saying that Thor is from another universe, dude. He’s on a whole other level.”

Derek reaches for more ketchup. “But if the characterization sucks, are cool powers enough?”

Dex glares at him. “You don’t even like superhero movies, so what gives you the right to judge them?”

Derek rolls his eyes. Maybe he didn’t miss argumentative Dex _that_ much. “I admit it: the appeal of gratuitous violence and formulaic plot is lost on me. But I’m allowed to have an opinion.”

Shitty pipes up. “Dex, you can defend them all if you like, but shouldn’t we be holding some up as examples of how superheroes should be used? It’s a perfect vehicle to explore solutions for thorny societal issues by seeing what happens when you give an individual the power to actually do something about them.”

“Right.” Holster nods. “Look at Luke Cage and Jessica Jones. What gives them impact is that they’re flawed people addressing complex questions.”

Bitty walks back to the table with two trays of raspberry-honey pastries. “Good heavens, are y’all still discussing this?”

Jack shrugs. “Not me. I don’t know anything about superheroes. But I did like the new Superman one.”

Everyone turns to him with horrified stares, and Jack immediately regrets his comment as he is hit by a wave of indignation. At some point, Shitty roars, “SCREW DC COMICS!” and most of the group raises their glasses in agreement.

Derek snickers and then feels a hand brush his shoulder. It’s Dex, who matches his grin, and they clink plastic cups. They’ve all made a family here. He settles into the moment and pushes away all his other emotions, relishing the fact that these people have become a home.

 

* * *

 

He manages to stay focused on concern when he sees Dex’s dark circles the next morning and wordlessly wraps him in a hug. It’s incredible enough that Dex leans into Derek’s shoulder and listens to his attempt at soothing murmurs. “There’s nothing to blame yourself for, okay? You’re fine the way you are.”

Dex takes a minute to find his voice. “I know.” Derek’s not sure he does, though, which might be the worst part, because Dex is beautiful and witty and reliable and passionate and ought to be loved for every part of himself. He wishes he could shake down every Poindexter until they realize that.

Derek orders Dex to stay in bed and rest a bit longer while he jogs over to the Haus. He returns with a croissant and a large mug of coffee, which earns him a look of gratitude that he doesn’t deserve. “Nursey, look…if you’re feeling guilty, you don’t have to do all this. We’re cool.”

“Nah, bro, it’s not guilt. It’s called consideration, so shut up and eat.”

Dex snorts and obediently scarfs down the croissant.

It’s July fourth, but the morning runs its usual course; they clean and make beds and reorganize boxes, only with considerably more beer on hand. C is adorably flushed after one Pale Ale. It’s welcome chaos, with Shitty running around in his boxers wrapped in an American flag (“It’s Independence Day and I have been oppressed by dress codes for too fucking long!”) and Ransom wearing a wig of white curls like a Founding Father.

After lunch they all change to go swimming. Derek sprints to be first to cannonball into the water, relishing the rush of cool darkness around him for that brief second before he pushes to the surface. The moment when he doesn’t think, intensely aware of his lungs, his breath, his heartbeat.

When he bursts out of the water, his eyes immediately find Dex, who deliberately leaps for maximum splash impact. Everyone cheers as the spray hits them. They both swim back to the dock and are hauled up. He only realizes the danger he’s in when he’s facing Dex, seeing beads of water trickling down his damp, freckle-starred shoulders. “That was weak, man.”

It takes Derek a second to shut down the exclamation points in his brain and reply, “You can’t compare them. Mine was about grace and technique.”

“Ha, good try.” Dex wanders off towards the beer cooler, and Derek allows himself a sigh. In normal circumstances, he would propose a hook-up or a date. Maybe he’s shallow, but he’s not big on letting consequences get to him. With Dex, though, the balance of their friendship is always delicate; the risk wouldn’t be worth the reward. If only Derek’s hormones would get the picture.

They all dry off and change as the sun sets to make it back for the fireworks show. Apparently the town of Samwell is just beyond the lake, so the fireworks will be reflected in the water. They lay out picnic blankets and pair off: Bitty and Jack, Ransom and Holster, Lardo and Shitty, Farmer and C. He plops down next to Dex and stifles a yawn.

C notices. “Nursey, are you tired?”

He nods, his head swimming a bit. “I may have gone a bit too hard on the PBRs.”

Dex pats his lap. “You can lie down. The view won’t change.”  
  
Seriously? Does the universe not understand that he’s attempting to avoid his attraction to this boy? Still, the prospect of not being upright anymore is too tempting. Cautiously, he lays his head on Dex’s thigh. It’s like a rock, all muscle, but he doesn’t mind.

Soon the fireworks are exploding overhead, bursts of color and light that crash in his chest. Farmer and C are now kissing, which was inevitable, but Dex’s face falls a bit when he notices. Shit. Emotional gay fragility and happy straight romance do not mix. Derek tries to distract him, speaking loudly over the noise. “So how much do you know about how fireworks actually, uh, do their thing?”

Dex fixes him with his trademark judgmental squint. “Please tell me this is not your first time watching fireworks, you bougie bastard.”

“Um, excuse me? The Macy’s fireworks display? Mine outdo yours by a million.”

“Right, but there’s no way you’ve ever been close to a bottle rocket. Wait, let me guess: you lit sparklers once, and there’s a Polaroid of it somewhere.”

“…You’re not wrong, but I’m gonna protest because you’re definitely stereotyping me.”

Derek can feel the vibration of Dex’s chuckle. When he looks up, Dex is laughing with his eyes turned towards the sky, which sizzles with gold sparks that reflect off his fiery hair. The effect is breathtaking; it looks as if reaching up to brush at Dex’s bangs would leave Derek’s fingertips scorched. He unconsciously lifts a hand, and Dex glances down at him quizzically. “What?”

He can’t stand that he finds his best friend so attractive after he said he didn’t want to date (or _fuck_ ) him. He especially can’t stand that said best friend possesses a devastating smile and doesn’t know it and throws it at Derek in moments when he isn’t prepared.

“Uh, just…it’s amazing, no matter how many times I see it. Fireworks. You know.”

“Yeah.” Dex’s smile is so soft it aches. “I know.”

For the rest of the show, it's impossible to distinguish between the rumble of the fireworks and the furious drumming of his heart. Derek may be a hopeless idiot, but he can thank the universe for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These all! Take me so long! To write! A thousand pardons. Winging this whole story has consequences, I guess. I honestly don't know if this chapter makes sense, but I'm posting it because I feel as guilty as Nursey does. (Ouch, too soon?) 
> 
> Everyone commenting is incredibly sweet. Hit me with some constructive criticism, folks. I can take it! Or weigh in on superhero movies or famous Chris-es, your pick.


	11. Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes all you need is a good night's sleep.

Will knows he’s a negative person. A few stops short of walking raincloud, but nevertheless, it’s easy to fall into a slump. He can hear “anxious” and “high-strung” and “self-doubt” a million times and still wonder why things _get_ to him.

Facing his sexuality square-on has certainly done the trick. He can’t get the disgusted voices of his parents out of his head, nor the homophobic slurs of the locker room. He thought working would be enough distraction, but today has been rough.

So what he really, really needs is a break from sweet, supportive Derek Nurse.

As if fate is shoving Murphy’s Law into Will’s face, Nursey plops down next to him on the log bench. In a failed attempt at being offhand, he says, “Can’t eat another s’more. Want it?”

“If you’re sure.” But it’s obviously for him, so without waiting for a reply, Will stuffs a bite into his mouth.

“It’s chill, bro. How’s it going on this side of the bonfire?”

“Well, Jack definitely said 15, which isn’t humanly possible.” Ransom, Holster and Lardo are entertaining the campers with a nauseating game of Chubby Bunny, their cheeks grotesquely stretched around the marshmallows. Jack is narrating referee-style, a Certified Hockey God™ skill, but his monotone voice is currently drowned out by Shitty’s dramatic re-enactment of Aragorn at the Black Gate.

“Totally. I’m with Farmer though, all bets on Lardo.” A pause, and Will stifles a yawn. “You’re tired, right?”

Last week, Bitty informed him that falling in love with your uninterested best friend is a ‘gay rite of passage’. Good to know, but not much of a comfort. Still, he needs to be okay; then Nursey will stop being so goddamn considerate and making it worse. “No. I’m fine.”

“Cool. But if you’re not, that’s cool too, you know.”

He turns and flicks Nursey in the forehead, a touch more forceful than necessary. “Dude. My mom doesn’t even worry this much, okay?”

Nursey holds his hands up. “Got it, got it. You need to chill.” His eyes sparkle, smile teasing as he dangles the bait, but Will isn’t up to an argument right now. He merely rolls his eyes and goes back to watching the game, where Holster has dropped out and is now acting out a dramatic death scene.

Bitty wanders over and takes up the rest of the bench next to Will. He’s been a bit protective, too, but his way involves more advice and pie. “Y’all, I can’t watch another second or I’ll never eat a marshmallow again.”

Chowder trails behind him, sitting down in front of Will and leaning his head back to rest on Will’s legs. “Me too, Bitty. That’s it. No more.”

Nursey smirks. “You sure you want us to hold you to that, C?”

“No.” Chowder gives them a sheepish grin. “They’re addicting.”

“Maybe we should start a second round?” Farmer perches on Nursey’s lap, steadying herself by wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Despite knowing that the affectionate gesture is entirely platonic, Will can’t help the shot of envy that quickens his pulse. She does it so thoughtlessly. He turns away to watch the wavering smoke curling off the flames.

Bitty replies in alarm, “Lord, please no.”

Will shakes his head. “I’ll pass. I want to die in my sleep at, like, 104, long after Nursey is crushed by a vending machine.”

Nursey smirks, rubbing at his stubble ( _curse_ his beautiful jawline, _goddamnit_ ) in thought. “Every one of you is so wrong about my death. It’s going to be a blaze of glory, dude. Bungee jumping accident. No, wait. Skydiving knife fight. Or like the Little Mermaid, where I just dissolve into bubbles from a broken heart.”

Farmer raises an eyebrow. “Poetic. Or Romeo and Juliet-style, knife or poison.”

Nursey shrugs. “That requires a partner-in-star-crossed-suicide. Too much effort. Unless anyone here wants to join me?" Will pulls a face as terrible memories of 10th grade English arise. 

A cry goes up. Lardo takes her inevitable place as champion, doing a wiggly celebration dance, while Ransom clutches at the grass and wails. Bedtime, then. They disperse to round up campers.

He takes a group of younger kids to their cabins, fielding questions with practiced patience. “Earth is really big. Yeah, Pavel, it’s a planet, it’s way bigger than your house. Your house is _on_ the planet. Of course ten elephants can fit. A million? Probably. Rodrigo! Stop poking Millie. If they don’t want to be touched, you don’t touch them. Hands to yourself. Come on, lights out in ten. No, we’re doing that tomorrow. Inside, Kemi. See you tomorrow. Fine, one hug each. Okay. Yeah, goodnight. Goodnight.”

Even the walk back to the cabin feels like a trek. Entering #14, he beelines for the bathroom to change and brush his teeth, feeling sluggish and achey. When he emerges, Nursey is lying on his bed, furiously typing on his phone.

“Staying up?”

“Huh? Yeah, just messaging Soheil. Turn the light off, though.”

“Okay.” He shuts off the lightbulb and burrows himself under the covers, willing sleep to come.

Willing sleep to come.

Willing his brain to shut off.

With a furious growl, he throws the blankets off him. A whole hour has passed, and Nursey is giving him those irritating pity-eyes from the opposite bed. He feels so colossally shitty, and now he can’t even escape it all and rest. Frustrated tears spill over.

Strong arms and the scent of aftershave and jasmine soap wrap around him. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

He melts into the hug, unable to resist. “I just want to get out of my own _fucking_ head, what’s wrong with me, I’m so _fucking_ tired but I can’t make myself sleep.”

Nursey’s silent for a second, and then offers, “I could join you? We’ll cuddle, okay? You can be little spoon. I’ll tell you about your namesake William Carlos Williams and it’ll knock you out in two minutes.”

“He’s not my namesake.”

“But don’t you wish he was?”

He’s toeing the line here between friendship and romance, a line that Nursey has drilled into the concrete. Will needs an escape. “No, I don’t want to make you—“

“Dex, I want to help. But if you don’t want to, I can get you tea or something. We could try ocean sounds? Like whale noises. They’re mad relaxing.”

God, he can’t help it, he feels like a rag doll and it’s so _enticing._ He whispers, embarrassed, “It could help.”

Nursey looks surprised, which makes his heart sink for an agonizing moment, but wordlessly slides under the covers. Will turns and allows himself to be spooned, safely encased between a firm chest and the wall. Nursey runs a hand up and down Will’s arm and starts murmuring something about New Jersey and doctors and chickens, but the soft words run together like water until Will floats under and submerges.

 

* * *

 

The first rays of sun brush his eyelids until Will awakens. It’s hot. He’s drooling, and when he reaches up to wipe it off, he realizes that his face is buried in the crook of a warm brown shoulder, his arm looped around the dip of a waist. He’s somehow turned in the night and burrowed into Nursey, and after a minute of bleary-eyed confusion, it clicks.

No no no no no.

Slowly, feeling stiffness searing his neck, he extricates himself and shifts closer to the wall. Nursey’s slumbers on, and Will allows himself a minute to examine his tattoo, the intricate bands weaving around his bicep. He’s beautiful, even snoring like this: the way the sun settles on his shoulders like a mantle, the slight part of his lips, the soft hairs around his belly button. He’s a hand-crafted statue, an Adonis, and Will, unworthy admirer, feels the frantic desire to flee.

Unfortunately, the telltale creak of a very cheap mattress rouses Nursey. Foggy-eyed, he glances over. “Where are you going?”

His voice cracks as he says, “Running.”

“Fuck, Dex, lie down. You need sleep.” An insistent hand wraps around his waist and pulls him back down, and his hammering heart sounds the emergency brake.

“Stop!” He can feel his face heat up as he pushes off the arms. “Let go.”

“Huh?” Nursey releases him and flips over, propping his head up on his crossed arms, and Will can see the dawning comprehension in his eyes. “Oh. Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean…” He trails off, then seems to muster a tense smile. “You sleep okay?”

Will stares at the ceiling, instinctively slipping his fingers under the soft fabric of his pajama shirt to rest them on his stomach. They rise and fall as he breathes. “Yeah. I did.”

“Sweet.”

He can feel Nursey’s gaze burning into his head, so Will impatiently asks, “Got a question?”

“What keeps you up? When you can’t sleep.”

Will bites his lip. The plan of pretending that nothing’s wrong has crashed spectacularly, so he might as well confess. “I don’t know. I just…I had this fantasy that I would have a wife someday. Not like I was attracted to her, but I could see her, and she would be part of the Poindexter Christmas and we would go on double dates and vacations and shit. And I know it’s not what I want, but I want that, you know?”

“Mmm.” Nursey puts a hand on his shoulder, rubs his thumb in circles there.

“I don’t even know _how_ to start being gay. ‘Cause I don’t want to hook up with someone. I wouldn’t know…” He feels the tingle of his blush curl around his ears. “I don’t even know how to make anyone like me. I’m not you, fucking Prince Charming with a beanie.”

“Screw you, you haven’t even seen me in the beanie!”

“It’s in half your photos, dumbass.”

“What do you mean, ‘you’re not me’? You honestly think there’s a shortage of guys who will want to date you? Logically, bro, a smart, funny, fit computer nerd is a high-demand kind of dude.”

He tries for a casual laugh, but it comes out small and pitiable, and he blinks back very unwanted tears. “People haven’t exactly been throwing themselves my way.”

“Dex,” Nursey replies gently, “maybe it’s because you were trying to be straight.”

“So? If you wanted a girl’s number, you’d have it. You’d have ten numbers and one of the girls would have, like, a flower crown and two tickets to a music festival.”

Nursey doesn’t bother denying the accusation, only asking, “Is that what you want?”

“No, it’s not.” He’s desperately trying not to blurt out that what he wants is the human embodiment of temptation lying next to him in bed. “I just want, for once, to like someone who likes me back. Or at least, I want to believe there’s someone out there who could actually like me.” There’s a silence in which Will registers exactly how pathetic a statement that was. “I know. I’m being dramatic. Save it.”

“Dex, that’s not what I was going to say.”

“Okay, then what the hell were you going to say?”

“Hold up. I’m deciding if I should say it.”

“Stop being nice to me or I swear I will lose it. Just tell me.”

“What if it makes me an asshole?”

“I know you’re an asshole.” Nursey barks out a laugh at that, but it sounds shaky, and Will finally turns to face him, brow creasing. He looks troubled and a bit scared, which is probably a bad sign. “Hey, if you really don’t want to…”

Nursey grins, but it feels forced. “Fuck it. If it helps, right? But please…you don’t have to feel, like, obligated or something. Also, I promise that I’m not joking this time. I’ll pinky swear on it.”

He was trying to prepare for the bombshell to come, but now Will’s befuddled and fed up. “Nursey, what are you talking about?”

“I like you." Nursey brings a hand up to rub at the nape of his neck. "So. You can believe that.”

_What?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SCREW WRITER'S BLOCK, I WROTE SOMETHING AND I'M POSTING IT WITHOUT REGRETS
> 
> I already wrote a lovely payoff scene, so now I just need to write an entire chapter to go along with it! Which ideally will take me two days and not two months! I realized how long I've been working on this fic and I was ashamed at my slow, slow progress, but it is currently a 75 page Word Doc in 11 pt. Lucida Sans, so.
> 
> Dex knows that Nursey uses jasmine soap because Dex once used said soap without thinking (they're bar soap people and it looks like a white bar of soap), and later marched over to Nursey and said, "Dude, what did you do to me?" Just wait. He'll be a convert.


	12. Not Quite Poetry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know what's coming.

So maybe, deep in Derek’s romantic soul, he’s hoping for his Moment with Dex. The sweet exchange of confessions, the lovers’ kiss, the continuing saga afterwards. He knows he’s setting himself up for a fall, but he’s never been shy of taking leaps.

Of course, if anyone would refuse to oblige him, it would be Dex. He sits up immediately, outraged. “You _like_ me? You said you would never want to date me or, you know. I mean, those words came from your mouth.”

Ouch. That was a stab to his guilty conscience. “Chyeah, when I was pissed off and thought you were straight. There was, like, a giant red X on your forehead, bro. I told you I’m an asshole. It’s cool, this isn’t the first time I—“

“Can you shut up for a minute?” Seriously? He has the right to crush Derek’s fantasies to pieces, but at least he could crush them politely. “You’re saying you like me as in you would be theoretically down to hook up with me, correct?”

Derek returns the glower, shifting to sit upright as well. “Dex, can you not be a dick about this? This is, like, my heart. I like you as in you’re cute and attractive and smart and all that shit. You get it.”

“So you would want to date me?” He practically spits out the word ‘date’.

“I mean, it’s standard procedure.”

“What the _fuck,_ Nursey,” Dex manages. His entire body is vibrantly red, almost enough to obscure his freckles, and shaking. Derek winces; rejection stings, but he might have unintentionally hurt his best friend even more, so he should backtrack and lick his wounds later.

“It’s okay, dude. It’s chill.” He gazes up at the lightbulb. “I mean, we could pretend I didn’t say it. First and foremost, you’re my best bro. If you need space, I can do that.”

“Are you this dumb? Are you genuinely this stupid?” Dex yanks on his arm, and when Derek turns his way, he’s confused to see him fighting back a smile. “I’m telling you that I like you too.”

Wait, what?

It’s not quite a Moment as he envisioned. It’s not constructed like a poem, not composed like a love letter. But there’s a stage, a bed bathed in morning sunlight, and it’s a dance, as he reaches forward for a hand that curls into his. Dex is still trembling but he laughs at Derek’s stunned expression, and that’s music, that’s poetry written in the air. It’s beauty, it’s red hair and freckles and beaming smile and blushing cheeks and a cute boy who likes him back, and right now, despite paying an obscene amount of tuition to spin language into its purest forms, Derek is lost for words.

“Hello? Earth to Nursey?”

Derek tackles him back onto the bed with a _whomp_ , his smile irrepressible. Dex yelps and shoves him off, and they end up side by side again, noses almost touching. “Explain.”

Dex rolls his eyes, but they crinkle in the corners as he grins teasingly. “It’s pretty straightforward.”

“You like me? For real?”

Dex glances at the bedspread and mumbles, “It’s been forever, idiot.”

Meaning? He thinks back to their fights, the way Dex reacted to Nursey’s jokes about dating, the tension of the past few weeks, the whole saga that led them here. And it hits him. “Holy shit. God, I am such an asshole. I was so shitty to you.”

“You were, but so was I. Honestly, it’s okay.”

“It’s _not_ okay.” Nursey brushes his fingers lightly against Dex’s jaw, and Dex shivers at the touch. He’s so vulnerable right now, so open, that Nursey wonders if he’s still dreaming. “From the first day, I thought you were stunning. _Stunning,_ Dex. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. Jeez. I mean, I should have told you, from the start, how beautiful you are.”

This brings visible tears to Dex’s eyes, and Nursey realizes with a pang that nobody has ever told him this before. “Nursey, you can’t…I mean, I can’t even describe how wildly out of my league you are.”

“Out of your league? Are you kidding?” He leans in closer until their foreheads are touching and slips his free hand under Dex’s waist, pressed into the covers. “Shut up. Have you seen yourself?”

Dex blinks the tears back and grins, turning the most delicious shade of pink. He slides his hands up Nursey’s arms to his shoulders, looking awestruck, before mumbling, “If you, um. Want to shut me up now. That would be cool."

Derek grins, cups Dex’s face in both hands and lightly traces a few freckles along his cheek. Then he closes the gap between their lips, and it’s brief, but the _feeling_ is so potent that his whole body is singed with heat. It’s soft, and tender, and it aches in the best possible way. Dex makes a distracted humming noise as they part, unconsciously expressing his pleasure, and Derek thinks he might implode.

He whispers, “That wasn’t your first, was it?”

Dex shakes his head. “First time I liked it this much, though.”

Derek knows his grin is sinful, but he’s walking on air right now. “My skills are truly undeniable.”

Dex pinches his nose in retaliation. “There goes the charm.” He chuckles at Derek’s pout, but then leans back and exhales slowly. “We should probably talk about all the complicated stuff.”

“Now? Fine, but I am officially getting the title of the romantic one.”

“That was hardly a fucking contest. What am I?”

“The cute one.” Derek winks, relishing in how Dex blushes on cue. “I’ll get breakfast first. Coffee? Tea?”

“Tea."

“Okay.” He kisses Dex’s cheek instinctively, then throws off the covers with a groan. Dex shoves him lightly as encouragement, and Derek manages to stand, only to trip and fall on his face spectacularly. Dex cackles for a solid minute.

The more things change, huh.

 

* * *

 

He returns with banana-Nutella crepes because Bitty is ridiculous. Dex has changed clothes, and he’s now cross-legged on Derek’s bed, looking less elated and more distressed.

Derek hands him a plate and a mug, then clambers onto the bed and mirrors his position. “What’s up?”

“Lots of crappy things.” Dex rolls his thumbs around each other in a fidgeting motion. “I’m deep in the closet. Like I’ve told you and Bitty and that’s it. And the way my family is, they would never accept it. My whole life in Maine is church-goers who thinks gays are doing the Devil’s work. Nursey, I can’t tell them. But I can’t bring all that bullshit into your life. This is a bad idea.” His face crumples, and it hurts Derek to watch, like something clawing at his stomach. He deserves so, so much better than what he has.

“Dex, sweetheart. It’s chill.” Nursey reaches out to take his hand, soothingly tracing a figure-eight on his palm. “The only thing you bring to my life is joy, got it? I’m fine with us keeping it on the DL. It’s not about other people. It’s about us.”

Dex’s brow clears slightly. “You sure?”

“As sure as I am that Star Wars is overrated."

Dex fondly flips him off, but looks relieved. “Okay. I want to tell Chowder and Farmer, though.”

“Can I come? Moral support?”

Dex’s grateful smile lights Derek up from the inside. “Yeah.”

“What else?”

His eyes slide back down to the bedspread. “You’ve dated a lot of people. And hooked up with a lot of people. Which is cool, except I haven’t done anything. With anyone. Ever. Okay, well, not in that sense? I don’t want to hold you back or anything, but—”

Derek holds up a hand. “Babe, we go as slow as you want. Not even a little bit of pressure, okay? I’m just in it to spend time with my boyfriend.”

Dex’s eyes widen to the size of mini-pies. “Are we boyfriends?”  
  
Shit. Derek Nurse, world’s clumsiest individual, has well and truly stepped in it now. “Sorry! We don’t have to take it that fast. I was jumping the gun. That was my b.”

Dex _smirks._ “I don’t mind.” The way Dex looks at him from under his lashes, so fucking sultry and undoubtedly clueless about it, could stop a heart. “You can’t resist my charms, huh?”

“Shut it, Poindexter,” he says while picking up Dex’s crepe and shoving it into his mouth. They end up arguing and feeding each other, and afterwards Dex kisses the Nutella off the corner of Derek’s mouth, and the untethered happiness swells up until he’s sure that he’s about to float away.

 

* * *

 

They decide to act normal, but Derek can’t help it if he spends more time with his hands on Dex’s shoulders or ribs him with more naked affection. He’s not the only culprit; his boyfriend (cue the internal trumpets and confetti) is equally bad. At lunchtime, he ruffles Dex’s hair for no reason and Dex turns more rosy than usual. Lardo throws him a suspicious look, which means she’ll figure it out soon if she hasn’t already.

That night, they decide on frog dinner, so they pile into Dex’s truck to hunt down Chinese food. Chowder and Farmer insist that they blast Sia the whole way, but Derek suspects that they’re skirting a classic Nursey-Dex argument over Led Zeppelin versus The xx. To be fair, it was no fun the first time. Music taste is sacred territory.

They end up at Shanghai Kitchen, passing around General Tso’s and lo mein. As a food snob, Derek feels obligated to point out how far it is from authentic Chinese cuisine, but he continues to eat heartily nevertheless. This leads into a brief argument with Dex on what ‘authentic’ food really is, and then digresses into an explanation of Korean food.

Dex reaches for the soy sauce. “So it’s spicy?”

“Yes and no? The base is gochujang.” Derek borrows Farmer’s pen to spell it on a napkin. “It’s a red pepper paste, and the flavor is sweet and spicy. Right, C?”

Chowder nods. “Bibimbap is the best! Plus I go to this one place where they give you like a million side dishes. It’s ‘swasome! I like them more than the meal!”

Farmer is clearly starving, but she pauses in her demolition to reply, “We should go when I visit you.”

Chowder makes a happy noise of assent.

Dex clears his throat. “Um.”

Farmer swallows an impressively large amount of noodles. “Um?”

Dex shoots Derek a panicked glance, and Derek subtly reaches for his hand under the table, intertwining their fingers. He runs the pad of his thumb over Dex’s knuckles, trying to convey support and steadiness. It seems to work; with a deep breath, Dex continues. “I thought I should probably tell you both something.”

Chowder tilts his head, still chewing on his chicken.

“I’m gay.”

“Oh. That’s great, Dex.” Farmer smiles kindly. “Thanks for telling us.”

Chowder swallows and then replies excitedly, “’Wow. That’s super cool! I’m, uh, proud of you! I’m just happy if you’re happy, you know?”

“I know. Thanks, buddy. Also…” He squeezes Derek’s hand painfully, and Derek tries to mask his grimace. “Um, Nursey and I started dating today. We’re not really telling people, but we thought you two should know.”

The couple stares at Dex incredulously, and Derek watches the silence shred at his boyfriend’s nerves. Thankfully, Chowder recovers first and slams his hands onto the table, making the guests in the opposite booth jump. “Does that mean this is a... _double date_ _?!?_ ”

“Shhhh!” Farmer giggles, though, and soon the whole table has burst into laughter. Chowder spends the next ten minutes rambling on about how this is like his dream come true, aside from all his dreams about sharks and the Sharks, except he actually had a weirdly realistic dream that Dex and Nursey were a tiger shark and a hammerhead shark that didn't get along except now they’re sharks in love?

Dex snickers and arches an eyebrow at Derek, who beams in return. It’s not quite poetry, but it’ll do just fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all the lurking lurkers and wonderful subscribers, please comment so I know you're out there! And I'll continue to be shameless and ask that you share with your Samwell-loving friends. My AO3 isn't connected to my social media, etc., so I rely on your love.
> 
> It's not over yet, y'all. There's enough camp left that needs to be put to good, fluffy use, so stay tuned.


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